Two Months in the Camp of Big Bear

In Short

This narrative serves as both a memoir and a testimonial by a survivor of the 1885 Frog Lake massacre in the Canadian North-West. It details the author’s life as a settler’s wife, the sudden violent uprising by Big Bear’s band of Cree, and the subsequent weeks spent in forced migration and confinement. Part historical record and part personal catharsis, the writing offers an unvarnished look at the fear, loss, and physical hardships of those caught in the conflict. Its longevity stems from its visceral depiction of a pivotal moment in Canadian colonial history.

The Story

The story begins with the promise of a new life in the "land of the setting sun." The author, a young woman from Ontario, marries an Indian instructor and moves to the Frog Lake settlement in the North-West, picturing their log house as a palace and themselves as its king and queen. This initial optimism is grounded in a deep belief in the region’s potential for agricultural development and a conviction that the government’s treatment of the local Indigenous population is both generous and just.

The narrative abruptly pivots on April 1, 1885. Following rumors of unrest at Duck Lake, the local atmosphere shifts from neighborly interactions to tense surveillance. The illusion of safety is shattered the next morning when the settlement is attacked. The author witnesses the sudden, violent death of her husband and other prominent members of the community, including priests and traders. Forced into the camp of Chief Big Bear, the author and another survivor, Mrs. Delaney, are thrust into a world of profound vulnerability.

The remainder of the book chronicles the two months of their captivity. The daily life is one of forced labor, constant movement across the prairie, and the looming threat of harm. The author describes the harrowing psychological toll of being watched at night, the sight of her personal possessions being destroyed or played with by children, and the relentless physical strain of travel by ox-wagon. She navigates the complex and shifting dynamics of her captors—some who offer protection, such as the half-breed John Pritchard, and others whose intentions remain predatory.

The arc reaches its climax when the arrival of General Strange’s scouts creates a moment of chaos within the camp. Seizing the opportunity, the author, alongside the families of those protecting her, makes a desperate, muddy trek through the woods to escape. The final chapters detail the rescue and the long, weary journey back to civilization. The narrative concludes with reflections on the victims, providing brief, elegiac biographies of the men lost at Frog Lake. The author returns to Ontario, physically safe but internally transformed by her grief, finding that while she has escaped the camp, the "terrible reality" of those months remains permanently etched in her mind.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author recounts her transition from a quiet life in Ontario to the vast, undeveloped prairies of the North-West. She describes the journey as a romantic undertaking, filled with anticipation for the simple, independent life she expects to lead alongside her husband.

The illusion of security Life at Frog Lake is depicted as prosperous and peaceful, characterized by successful farming and friendly, if patronizing, relations with the Cree. The author insists that there were no genuine grievances among the Indians, attributing the subsequent violence to the influence of "bad men."

The massacre The narrative turns dark as the quiet settlement is overrun by armed men. The author captures the suddenness of the violence, the destruction of the church, and the profound, immediate loss of her husband.

Life in the camp The bulk of the text details the daily degradations of captivity, from the hard labor of baking for dozens of people to the constant fear of being targeted. The author portrays her captors as "semi-barbarians," documenting the misery of the trail and the psychological torment of constant surveillance.

The escape The final movement follows the confusion of the Cree band as they face the approaching military. The author describes the final, arduous trek through the brush to reach safety, marking the end of her ordeal and her emotional return to the world of her past.

The People

The author, Theresa Gowanlock, is the central consciousness of the book. She presents herself as a refined, observant woman whose primary motivation throughout the ordeal is survival and the preservation of her dignity. Her narrative is shaped by her grief and a fierce, unyielding perspective on the events she endured.

Her husband, an Indian instructor, represents the idealized version of the pioneer. To the author, he is the "soul of honor," a man dedicated to the civilization of the Indigenous people and the development of the land. His death serves as the emotional anchor for the entire story.

Big Bear, the Cree Chief, is depicted with a mix of frustration and pity. The author describes him as a man who has lost control of his followers, noting moments where he weeps over the violence he cannot prevent. She views him as a tragic, if ultimately ineffective, figure.

John Pritchard, a half-breed, functions as the essential protector. He is the one who negotiates for the author's safety and keeps her within his own family's tent, acting as a shield against the "wicked" intentions of others in the camp.

Blondin, a French Canadian, acts as the primary antagonist of the author’s personal story. He is portrayed as a man of "evil intent" who uses the chaos of the massacre to claim the author for himself, creating a secondary, domestic threat that runs parallel to the larger danger of the camp.

In Its Own Voice

"When I look back to it all, I often wonder, is it all a dream, and has it really taken place."

The author expresses her struggle to reconcile her previous life of domestic happiness with the sudden, violent reality of the massacre.

"I slept in a sitting position and whenever I would wake up, in a startled state from some fevered dream, I invariably saw, at the tent door, a human eye riveted upon me."

This detail highlights the constant psychological pressure and the lack of privacy the women faced while held in the Cree camp.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is a study in the collapse of a worldview. The author entered the North-West with an absolute, unshakable faith in the benevolence of the Canadian colonial project and the "civilizing" mission of the Church and government. The violence at Frog Lake forces her to confront a world where that faith offers no protection. The book is an argument for the superiority of her own culture and a denunciation of the "noble red man" trope, which she views as a dangerous romantic fiction. Beneath the plot, it asks how a person can maintain their identity when everything they have worked for—their home, their spouse, their sense of safety—is stripped away in a single morning.

Why Read It Today

Readers today will find this book a challenging and revealing primary document. It is not an objective history, but rather a raw, subjective account that lays bare the fears, prejudices, and intense trauma of a nineteenth-century settler woman. Those interested in the history of the Riel Rebellion or the complexities of the North-West will value the specific details of the landscape, the encampment, and the interpersonal dynamics of the period.

It is important to acknowledge that the prose reflects the harsh, often derogatory attitudes of its time toward Indigenous people. The author writes from a place of profound suffering, which often manifests as a rigid, uncompromising hostility toward her captors. It is not a gentle read; the language is archaic, the emotions are jagged, and the perspective is deeply localized. However, for those looking to understand the human cost of frontier expansion and the way trauma shapes memory, this book remains a vital, if difficult, testament. It is the story of a life interrupted, lingering on the quiet, chilling moments—the gaze of an eye in the dark, the sound of a cannon in the distance—that survive long after the battles themselves have faded into history.