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Windows to the past

Andrew Raven
Northern News Services

Fort Simpson (Sep 30/05) - The wood-panelled walls of Mary Kraus's long term care room in the Fort Simpson health centre are an archive.

Covered with pictures spanning the life of the 93-year-old grandmother, the walls are a testament to an existence that is quickly fading into history.



The pictures that cover the walls of Mary Kraus's room harken back to her younger years when she and her family lived on what they could harvest from the land. - Andrew Raven/NNSL photo


"I look at these to remember," said Kraus, pointing towards the frames from her wheelchair. "To remember what things were like."

The pictures are a history lesson, leaping from one decade to another.

One shows Kraus cutting through the bush outside of Fort Liard with a dog-team, part of her annual mid-winter supply run. A white kitten sits perched on the sled, which is bulging with sugar, tobacco and tea.

"We would trap near the Ross River in the Yukon," said Kraus. "Then we would come out of the bush and (trade) at the Hudson Bay (store)."

Kraus and her husband Gus, who was originally from Chicago, would travel to the hot springs near Fort Liard for mid-winter baths.

"It was cold outside, but warm in the water," she laughed.

In another picture, Kraus and her young son Mickey pose in the hills above scenic Little Doctor Lake. The family lived in a small, wooden cabin where they hunted and trapped. Kraus called the area home until a few years ago and remembers life in the rugged wilderness like it was yesterday.

"We would hunt, trap, plant potatoes and pick strawberries," she said. "There were not many people out there. We were almost alone."

An expert hunter, Kraus remembers felling a moose with a single shot to the neck one winter day.

"You had to eat," she said. "You couldn't feel bad about it."

One of Kraus' favourite pictures shows a flock of chickadees devouring bannock outside of the family cabin.

Kraus fed the birds leftover scraps almost every morning.

"They would make this chirping sound," she said. "It was like chick-chick-chick. I won't forget that."

Kraus has dozens of other pictures stacked on her shelves that she eventually hopes to have framed and mounted on her walls.

"They all have memories," she said.