Mattawa's Rebel: Anahareo

When passing through Mattawa there is an iconic six foot tall carved statue of a lumberjack, a mythic folk hero of the lumber industry. And yet, the most captivating lesser known true story is that of an Algonquin/Mohawk woman named Gertrude Bernard, better known as Anahareo.

While Anahareo is better known for her partnership with Grey Owl, she lived a vibrant, independent and complex life of her own. When written about, journalists often defined her in one stereotypical image, she protests: “I’m often portrayed as a “sweet, gentle Indian maiden—whispering to the leaves—swaying with the breeze, tra, la—. No, no, I’m a rebel really." (Anahareo, Letter to Gregson, 19 November 1959). 

They could not truly pin Anahareo down as a relic of history because she was a woman that lived in both worlds, the bush and the modern era. As Grey Owl describes, she could “swing an axe as well as she could a lipstick”. Anahareo lived as many things: a prospector, conservationist, animal rights activist, mother and writer. Always defying the social norms and roles expected of her as an Indigenous woman in white settler society.

In one event, Grey Owl, like many woodsmen at the time, did not approve of women carrying packs on the trail. Annoyed, Anahareo grabbed the canoe and went racing down the rapids in a kind of rash attempt to prove herself. With no skill in white water, and making it safely down only because of her lightweight, when reflecting, she remarked that yes, it was dangerous but at least Grey Owl knew then that she “wasn’t going to stay put.” 

And Anahareo did just that – did not stay put. Multiple times she headed out to northern Ontario and northern Quebec to try her hand at prospecting or to take whatever labour job she could when her plans didn’t work out. She even tried to stake claims in the Arctic at Great Bear Lake, but the man who would be her sponsor could not bear the thought of being responsible for sending a girl there. 

When she did stay put at the cabin with Grey Owl, she tried to trap but eventually found it too difficult and cruel, coming across a mangled animal in her trap. This led her to convince Grey Owl to keep two abandoned beaver kits. Of course it was not easy making the decision to protest against what was then their livelihood amid the looming 1930s Depression and when work was mostly farming, lumber or trapping.

They suffered economic hardship and had little money living out a harsh winter in a cabin. Nevertheless, they persevered. They started a beaver colony in a country that was constantly stripping the forests for lumber, and Grey Owl’s writings on the matter began to gain popularity. Their environmental cause, alongside their “wilderness” image in fringed buckskin jackets and breeches, became known. 

This developed into an opportunity with the Parks Department. They and their beavers were supplied a home on Lake Ajawaan in Manitoba’s  Prince Albert National Park  where Grey Owl took a naturalist position and they became a sort of public relations image of conservation.

This became the Beaver Lodge, a location that is still a popular tourist attraction and where they filmed The Beaver People. While the pair were at least grateful that their cause was now gaining traction, they were still operating in what is a colonial system. In some ways, set up as a cultural exhibit for white settler society on what is the traditional lands of the Cree, Treaty 6 territory. 

Anahareo grew up in a religious, working class community and was connected to her culture and family. After her mother died at four, Anahareo was raised by “Big Grandma”, who taught her traditional skills and emphasized the importance of Aboriginal traditions, while also upholding a Catholic faith (her grandmother was raised by nuns in a boarding school). Owing to her, Anahareo knew about medicinal herbs, the stories of her family’s history and was a skilled seamstress, fashioning clothes out of buckskins, canvas and cloth. 

From childhood, Anahareo had a rebellious nature and would skip chores and school to spend time in the woods. Her bold choices continued upon first meeting Grey Owl, when she was working at Camp Wabikon in Temagami as a waitress, and he was a canoe guide, reminding her of the Robin Hood of the times. That summer she declined a wealthy doctor’s invitation to pay for her schooling and instead met up with Grey Owl. She lived with him for two months at Sunset Lodge in Northern Quebec at his trapline.

Anahareo describes this time as her first serious outdoor venture where they ate moose meat and raisin pancakes, trudged 40 miles through deep snow by snowshoe and “some million hours later” reached a mound of snow with a skinny stove pipe sticking out: their camp. While this was all new to her, Anahareo would eagerly go on to learn to paddle swiftly, build shelters, and gain all of the bush skills needed for her prospecting trips.

Grey Owl and Anahareo had a special bond but it wasn’t without its complications. With Grey Owl writing all the time and Anahareo itching to travel, they ended up going their separate ways. While pregnant, Anahareo moved to Calgary with their first daughter Dawn and went back to being called Gertrude. She faced severe systemic racism as a single Indigenous woman, and was convinced to give up her second daughter Anne for adoption. At the time, police were told to arrest Indigenous women without child support. These policies regulated Indigenous women’s sexuality and lives, another facet of colonization. Anahareo faced many injustices but refused defeat.  

Later, she spoke out about the unfair treatment of Indigenous people, joined the Association for the Protection of Fur-Bearing Animals and was an advocate and spokesperson for animal protection. Specifically, she joined the campaigns to ban the leg-hold trap and the poisoning of wolves. In her late 70s, Anahareo was recognized for her contributions and admitted into the Order of Nature from the International League of Animal Rights (1979) and appointed into the Order of Canada (1983).

After Grey Owl’s death and the leak of his true English ancestry in the North Bay Nugget, Anahareo dedicated years trying to secure a film deal to accurately depict her and Grey Owl’s life and their conservation message. Hollywood still preferred their stereotypes. She also went on to publish an updated memoir, more true to her, titled, Devil in Deerskins: My Life with Grey Owl (1972). Stripped down to the bones, you begin to see their extraordinary life alongside the tender ordinary moments. An important Canadian literary, this is Anahareo’s story in her own words. Something of sorts she had been doing her entire life, rewriting what it means to be an Indigenous woman living in a world that constantly tried to define her. A rebel, really.