The next event that I recall is school. It was 1½ miles to the district school from our

home. The school was located on the southeast quarter of my grandfather’s farm.

The name of the school was Verboska. One and a half miles was a long way to

walk. Often Dad would take us to school with a horse-drawn sleigh. In the spring

of the year and in warmer weather we would walk. There was a road diagonally

across a half section north east of our farm that was used as a short cut to town. This is what

we would take during the winter months. When the snow melted and the low spots were

filled with water, we were forced to use the road.

The name of my first teacher was Miss Specher. She was a kind person, as I

remember. I recall that each day began with the singing of the national anthem, a salute to

the flag, and a recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. Sometimes she would have the whole school

to love him too.

I recall one summer day walking home from school – the long way - with the rest of

the children in our family. The road across the quarter used during the winter now had a

number of sloughs, because we recently had a lot of rain, so we were compelled to take the

long way. My grandfather Boiko’s house was just west, about 200 yards, of the schoolhouse.

We had to walk past his yard, west along his farm. The problem was that at the far end of his

farm the road was flooded because of the very heavy rains. It was necessary for us to cross a

barbed wire fence and cross part of grandfather’s grain field. The grain was in head at this

time and he didn’t like children tramping his grain down. He didn’t mind us taking the path

along his field however, but he had warned the neighbor’s children not to do so. We didn’t

know this at the time. As we walked along the road we noticed Grandpa had his white horse

hitched to the buggy. He was sitting in the buggy waiting, for some reason. Then it

happened. As soon as he saw the neighbor’s children, who were ahead of us, crossing the

fence into his farm, he came riding swiftly toward us. We were almost to the point where we

would cross the fence. Grandfather was fast closing in on us. I recall my older sisters and

brother running down the road and into the slough to get away from him. I was left behind

and cried because I didn’t know what was happening. When granddad came along side of me

he shouted. "I am not after you children. I am after those bad neighbor children who plan to

go across in the wheat field, damaging the crops." The older children, wet to the waist, came

out of the slough. We walked then on the edge of the grain around the water, a long way

around, then finally to home on the muddy road.

The experience of Grandpa and his white horse and buggy has stayed with me very

vividly. It must have affected me deeply. This is the only thing that I clearly recall about my

grandfather.

The other event that remains in my mind is when we children were told that we had to

move. Dad was unable to make payments on the farm because of poor crops. We lost the

farm on which my parents had made a lot of improvements. This was a sad time in our

home. There was nothing that could be done to save the situation.

About this time (1928-1929), grandfather wanted to return to the Ukraine for a visit,

but he needed money for the trip. He decided to sell the farm to his son Steven who in turn

sold it to my older brother Nick so that we as a family could live there. Those were hard

times for us. We needed to make the move.

I remember Dad loading the wagon box with household stuff. He would drop us off

at the school, and then go and unload at our new home. Finally everything was moved. It

was neat to be able to be so close to school. Now we didn’t need to carry a lunch, we could

run home for our noon meal.

My second schoolteacher was a man. Nothing extraordinary comes to my mind about

him, except one thing. Mr. Trefinika boarded with a farm family two miles north of the

school. The family had two children, a boy and a girl, who would come to school with the

teacher. They came in the summer time with a pony drawn cart. This made the rest of the

pupils envious of the two kids. Mr. Trefinika had a temper, which he showed when there was

misbehavior or when schoolwork was not done. He used to get really mad when children

would goof off in class. One day when the boy of the family he was staying with, was

behaving very badly, he lost his cool and threw his pen at the boy. The pen lodged deeply in

the boy’s upper lip. He became quite afraid because of this.

Life at home and at school took on a routine as I recall, with some outstanding events

taking place. The dirty thirties, as this period is often called, were hard times. It seemed that

we were always short of money, short of feed for the animals, and short of food for meals.

Being so close to school was all right but it had its disadvantages. For example, my

parents could see what was taking place at school during recess time. This we didn’t like.

Also, when we came home for lunch there was always something that needed to be done:

bringing in a pail of fresh water, carrying in some wood, or catching a hen and chopping it’s

head off so that mother could prepare chicken for the evening meal.

The summer days were hot and dry. There was very little rain. The pastures and the

grain fields would wither and die. The horses that Dad used were under-fed most of the time

and the neck collars and harnesses often did not fit properly. Some horses developed large

open blisters on their shoulders. Collar pads didn’t seem to help at all because the animals

were so skinny. I remember being ashamed to see the animals taken to the fields day after

day and compelled to work with sores on their shoulders. At the end of the workday the

horses were too tired to graze or rest much, because they were bothered by swarms of

mosquitoes.

One spring, just before the snow was completely melted, Dad bought some wiener

pigs. In the process of transferring them to the pigpen from the wagon box, one black and

brown piglet escaped from Dad’s hands, and ran off into the trees behind the barn. As much

as we searched, we were unable to find it. Soon it became too dark to continue looking. I

remember wondering what would become of the young pig out on its own.

As spring turned into summer we began to hear some stories in the community of a

wild pig. "It must be our lost pig", I thought. In the fall, after the crops were harvested, the

trees began to shed their leaves. The children were all back at school. Some children,

coming to school one morning, were frightened by a wild black hog that crossed the road just

north of the school. Our neighbor had called to say that a wild pig was visiting their yard for

food. He was spotted in the bushes not far from their house.

Dad along with the neighbor and a dog were able to flush the pig out of the bush. The

dogs chased the animal until it was completely exhausted. They were then able to catch the

weakened animal, place a rope on both hind legs and bring it home. The pig was in very

good shape and had grown almost to the size of those that remained in the pig pasture. When

it came time to sell the hogs, the black and brown hog was a little smaller and remained

behind to be fattened to supply meat for the winter table.

I remember one fall in the 1930’s when our three-year old steers were sold to cattle

buyers. Six animals sold for $80.00. This was all the cash that Mom and Dad had with

which to buy supplies of food and clothes for the winter. A crop of rye brought in 9 cents a

bushel.

For additional funds we would saw poplar firewood by hand, split the wood and then

pile the wagon box full of wood and haul it into Calder. A load of firewood would be sold

for $2.00. Several loads were sold during the winter months to the townspeople. Sometimes

we would be successful in winning a bid to supply the Verboska Nebraska School with

several cords of firewood. This made Dad very happy as a rule.

One fall when Nick came home he stayed for awhile into the winter. The only well

on the farm was running low on water. It seemed that a new well would have to be dug.

Nick surveyed the yard until a spot of green grass was found east and a little north of the

house. He and Dad began digging the well by hand. A nine-foot diameter hole was to be dug

This picture was taken

in 1933.

Left to right at the back

are: Peter, Maria,

Lindy, and Sam, in the

front are, left to right:

Alister and Dan.

From Kif(f)iak Family Tree "100

years in Canada" CD

in order that the well cribbing could be made of fieldstones. Dad was an expert in laying

stone cribbing in a well. It was a slow process, for when the dirt could no longer be tossed

out of the hole, it had to be removed with a bucket and winched out. This operation took two

men. At other times rock, which had been removed from the field and placed along the

fence, would be hauled to the new well. The stones had to be of the type that would split

with a rock hammer. We boys were able to help prepare the rock after school.

When the well was about twenty-five to thirty feet deep, the weather turned very cold.

A canvas was placed over the hole so that the ground wouldn’t freeze. When the men went

out in the morning the dog chased the flock of sheep in the direction of the well. A light

snow had fallen during the night concealing the canvas. Four sheep were found the next day

floating on the water in the bottom of the well. The sheep were removed, and the water

bailed out to clean the well out. After the sheep episode a guard fence was built around the

area.

When the cribbing of the well began, it was necessary to work reasonably fast because

of the water flowing in. Each morning the well was emptied of water and the work would

continue. Extra help was needed to do this work. Splitting the stones and lowering them into

the well was hard work. My Dad was in constant danger of falling stones from the bucket so

he would stand against the side of the well as a precaution. It was a great day when all the

work was finally done. To finish it off, the cover was placed over the well and the pump

lowered into the well. The well produced the finest drinking water in the community, as far

as I was concerned. It is still in use and produces excellent water for all the farm livestock

and household needs. The hard work of digging a new well through most of the winter had

proved an invaluable investment to the farm.

The winter had now turned to spring. The snow was all melted and gone. The

animals were all able to find a few fresh blades of grass. Things looked splendid on the farm.

We had a gray spotted three-year old gelding that would be broken in to fieldwork soon. Dad

was proud of having more strong horses for fieldwork.

While we were sitting at supper one day, the horses began running around the

farmyard. There must have been a change of weather coming. The kitchen window faced

toward the barnyard so that most of us could see the goings on. Suddenly the three-year old

horse began running in the area of the old well that was not fenced. To our horror and

astonishment he crashed through the wooden cover of the well, and plunged head first into

the well that was half filled with water. He was completely submerged. Dad was so

overcome by the tragedy that he kept beating his breast in obvious grief and remorse over the

loss of this fine animal. It could not be replaced, because of lack of money in the family.

The poor animal was left in the well, and was eventually buried with dirt when the well was

filled in. The event, however, could not be so easily covered over in our minds.

The children in our day received no spending allowance as many children do today.

We needed to earn our own allowance – not for treats – but to help supply our own clothes.

In the summer every year, after school, and on Saturdays, most of us would be off in the

pasture north of our farm to dig Seneca roots. These roots were used in the production of

medicine. The secret was to find a good patch with large roots and to work away very

quietly. The roots would be washed and placed to dry in the sun. Each of us had our own

little piles. When the roots were dry, they were placed in sacks with each of our names

marked on them, then taken to the store for payment when ready.

In the winter we would trap animals like weasels or rabbits and sell the fur. In the

summer we would go for skunks, though this was usually a very smelly business. Eventually

we found that by drowning the skunks we could eliminate some of the danger of being

sprayed.

In some years the municipality would pay one cent per gopher tail. This was to help

control the gopher population. Most every one was engaged in the sport of gopher hunting in

the community throughout Saskatchewan.

The municipality would also pay for crows’ legs or crows’ eggs. This was to help

control the population. Crows and hawks were a problem for farmers because they would

raid the farmyard for chicks.

When I was a little older, say age fourteen, Dad had me help on a threshing crew.

Most often we were paid 50 – 75 cents per day plus meals.

We always enjoyed visits by older brothers and sisters. Nick used to pay short visits.

Bill would come and stay for longer periods during the winter months. Later when Francis

and Margaret left home to go to work, their visits home were much appreciated.