The River's Blood: The La Prairie Voyageur Legacy (2026 edition)

 

The River's Blood: The La Prairie Voyageur Legacy 2026

Google drive link… https://drive.google.com/file/d/12IQsu4snDr7lpmQNEJBYA_sJgu3Pvcal/view?usp=drive_link

In the 17th and 18th century, the destiny of North America was written in the wake of birchbark canoes. This is the epic true story of the La Prairie families—pioneers who traded the stability of the forge and farm for the relentless current of the St. Lawrence.

From the master blacksmiths and axe-makers (Poupart) and canoe-makers (Duquet) to the indomitable runners of the woods (Bourassa, Barette, Rivet), The River's Blood tracks the foundational French-Canadian lineage that fueled the fur trade, charted the wilderness, and etched the family names into the deep history of the continent's expansion. Discover the sacrifice, the ambition, and the unbreakable bond that tied these adventurers to the heart of the Great Lakes frontier.

Drifting Cowboy’s Journey

Jerry England—known as "Drifting Cowboy"—is a master storyteller and genealogist whose own life is a continuation of the North American frontier saga. Raised in the rugged Sierra Nevada foothills of 1950s California, Jerry learned the code of the wilderness from his family—a blend of self-reliance, quiet competence, and deep respect for the land.

His intensive fifteen-year research journey revealed the roots of this heritage: an unbroken line stretching back to the earliest settlers and legendary voyageurs of New France. Jerry England connects the grit of the cowboy culture directly to the tireless spirit of the La Prairie voyageurs, proving that the frontier legacy runs deep in The River's Blood.

 

The Voyageur's Odyssey: Philippe Foubert's Frontier Life in New France

 

In the bustling streets of Rouen, Normandy, where the Seine River whispered tales of distant lands, Philippe Foubert was born around 1616 in the parish of St. Vivien.  A man of modest origins, he grew into a life shaped by the rhythms of 17th-century France—perhaps as a laborer or artisan, though records remain silent on his early days. Before 1641, he married Jeffine Riviere, a union that brought forth their daughter Marie in 1641, baptizing her in the same parish church that had witnessed his own beginnings. Little did Philippe know that the winds of opportunity—and peril—would soon carry him across the Atlantic to the wilds of New France, a fledgling colony teeming with promise and peril.

The year 1649 marked a pivotal turn. Europe was still reeling from wars and economic strife, and the lure of the New World beckoned adventurers seeking fortune in the fur trade. On September 12, in the notary office of Laurent Bermen in Quebec, Philippe signed an engagement contract with Charles Sevestre, a prominent figure in the Compagnie des Habitants (also known as the Communauté des Habitants).  This French-Canadian trading company, formed in 1645 by local elites like Pierre Le Gardeur de Repentigny and Jean Bourdon, held a monopoly on the fur trade in the colony, excluding Acadia. It promised profits from beaver pelts but demanded colonists shoulder the burdens of settlement, including military defense against Iroquois raids and the annual transport of new settlers. Philippe, hired as a voyageur—a rugged traveler tasked with navigating canoes through treacherous rivers to trade with Indigenous nations—embarked on this venture likely as part of a brigade venturing into the interior for furs.

Imagine the scene: Philippe, sturdy and resolute, boarding a vessel in Rouen or La Rochelle, crossing the stormy Atlantic in a months-long journey fraught with scurvy, tempests, and uncertainty. Arriving in Quebec, he would have stepped into a raw frontier—wooden palisades, Jesuit missions, and the constant hum of bartering at the company's storehouse, where Sevestre served as clerk and eventual general manager.  As a voyageur, Philippe's days blurred into a grind of paddling birch-bark canoes laden with trade goods—axes, kettles, blankets—up the St. Lawrence and beyond, exchanging them for precious beaver skins with Huron and Algonquin allies. The work was grueling: portages over rocky terrain, mosquito swarms in summer, and the ever-present threat of Iroquois ambushes, which escalated in the late 1640s as intertribal wars disrupted trade routes.

By 1652, Philippe had transitioned from the nomadic life of a voyageur to a more settled existence. Referred to now as a miller, he purchased a home in Trois-Rivières—a plot with two arpents of river frontage, ideal for grinding grain to sustain the growing community.  This riverside town, founded in 1634 as a trading post, buzzed with fur traders, farmers, and soldiers. Trois-Rivières offered a semblance of stability amid the colony's hardships, though Iroquois attacks loomed, culminating in the dispersal of the Hurons by 1650 and a collapse in fur supplies that strained the Compagnie des Habitants financially.

Family ties pulled at Philippe's heart across the ocean. In 1655, alongside his brother Robert Foubert, he signed a note of obligation for 100 livres to Sevestre—likely a downpayment to fund the passage of their wives to New France.  The following summer of 1656 brought joy and reunion: Jeffine, now 48, arrived in Quebec with their 15-year-old daughter Marie, accompanied by Robert's wife Marguerite Riviere (age 50) and the young wife of Georges Pelletier (age 32). The women, having braved the perilous crossing, hurried to Trois-Rivières. There, amid the wooden homes and fortified walls, Marie Foubert wed voyageur Jean Cusson on September 16, 1656—a union that would root the family deeper into the colonial fabric.

Philippe's life in New France was brief but impactful, embodying the spirit of the early settlers who bridged old and new worlds. He passed away sometime between 1656 and 1661 in Cap-de-la-Madeleine, near Trois-Rivières, and was buried there in 1661.  His legacy endured through descendants like Marie, who carried the Foubert name into future generations of Canadiens. In an era when the Compagnie des Habitants grappled with debts, Iroquois wars, and royal interventions—ultimately dissolving in 1663—Philippe's story reflects the grit of those who paddled into the unknown, forging a new homeland from the wilderness.

Thank you to Grok xAI for enhancements to this story.

Cousin Joseph Duquet: Hanged for His Part in the Lower Canada Rebellion, 1838

 

Joseph Duquet (September 18, 1815 – December 21, 1838) was a notary in Lower Canada. He was executed for his part in the Lower Canada Rebellion.

He was born in Châteauguay, Lower Canada in 1815. He studied at the Petit Séminaire de Montréal and the Collège de Chambly. Duquet articled as a notary with Joseph-Narcisse Cardinal and then studied law with Chevalier de Lorimier. In 1837, he continued his training as a notary with his uncle Pierre-Paul Démaray at Dorchester (later Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu).

Démaray was arrested for high treason in November 1837 but was freed by a group of Patriotes while he was being escorted to the jail at Montreal. Duquet helped his uncle escape to the United States. After a skirmish at Moore's Corner, he escaped to Swanton, Vermont. In February 1838, he took part in an attempted invasion of Lower Canada by Robert Nelson.

Duquet returned to Lower Canada in July 1838 after an amnesty was proclaimed. He then helped recruit members for the frères chasseurs and organized a lodge at Châteauguay. He was captured with Joseph-Narcisse Cardinal at Kahnawake when they attempted to get weapons from the native people there. At a trial in November 1838, he was sentenced to death for the crime of high treason with a recommendation for executive clemency. He was hanged at Montreal in December 1838 and buried in the old Catholic cemetery there. In 1858, his remains were moved to the Notre Dame des Neiges Cemetery and buried under “Monument aux Patriotes,” a monument dedicated to the Patriotes of 1837-8.

ASSOCIATION DES FRÈRES-CHASSEURS

The Association des Frères-Chasseurs was a secret society that aimed to free Canada from British rule. It was founded by Patriote exiles following their defeat in 1837. The association took several cues from the Masons, including a variety of rituals, oaths, hand signs and passwords. Commanded by Dr. Robert Nelson, the association quickly spread throughout the American borderland and Lower Canada. The association played a major role in the second phase of the Canadian rebellion, planning and leading the failed invasion of Lower Canada in November 1838. The Frères-Chasseurs and Hunters’ Lodges were part of the same general association with similar aims, practices and rituals. While one was organized by American sympathizers, the other was organized by Lower Canadian Patriotes. 

From: Dictionary of Canadian Biography

JOSEPH DUQUET, (3rd cousin 5x removed) Patriote; b. 18 Sept. 1815 at Châteauguay, Lower Canada, son of Joseph Duquet, an innkeeper, and Louise Dandurand; d. 21 Dec. 1838 in Montreal.

Joseph Duquet began his classical studies at the Petit Séminaire de Montréal in 1829 and finished the program at the Collège de Chambly in 1835. He was attracted to the notarial profession and articled, probably that same year, with Joseph-Narcisse Cardinal at Châteauguay; he then continued his legal education in Montreal with Chevalier de Lorimier, likely the following year. Both of these men were Patriotes and they were destined to die on the gallows in 1838 and 1839. In October 1837 Duquet went to work in the office of his uncle Pierre-Paul Démaray*, a notary and Patriote at Dorchester (Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu), with whom he was expecting to complete his training.

On the night of 16–17 Nov. 1837 Duquet was present when Démaray was arrested on a charge of high treason. After Bonaventure Viger* and a handful of men had succeeded in freeing Démaray by ambushing the detachment that was taking him to the Montreal jail, Duquet accompanied his uncle to the United States. On 6 December he and other Patriotes took part in a skirmish at Moore’s Corner (Saint-Armand Station). Subsequently he fled to Swanton, Vt. On 28 Feb. 1838 he participated in Robert Nelson*’s attempted invasion of Lower Canada.

After the amnesty proclaimed by Lord Durham [Lambton], Duquet was able to return to Lower Canada in mid July 1838. He immediately undertook an intensive campaign to recruit members for the Frères-Chasseurs. He organized a lodge at Châteauguay and persuaded Cardinal to become the head of it. On the evening of 3 November, the day set for the second uprising, he left with Cardinal and a group of followers to “borrow” weapons from the Indians at Caughnawaga (Kahnawake). On reaching their destination on the morning of 4 November, Cardinal, Duquet, and François-Maurice Lepailleur, Cardinal’s brother-in-law, began parleying with the Indian chiefs. The Indians invited the entire group of Patriotes to join in the negotiations, but when they entered the reserve the warriors surrounded them, taking 64 prisoners whom they immediately conducted to the Montreal jail.

On 28 Nov. 1838 Duquet and 11 of his companions were summoned before a court martial set up by Sir John Colborne*. Lewis Thomas Drummond*, a young Irishman, Pierre Moreau, a Canadian lawyer whom the court judged “acceptable,” and later Aaron Philip Hart, a brilliant man of Jewish extraction, undertook to defend them. They were not allowed, however, to intervene directly through cross-examination.

From the outset Cardinal lodged a protest disputing the court’s jurisdiction, since the offences had been committed before the special ordinances of 8 Nov. 1838 had been adopted. He demanded a trial before a civil court, but in vain. When the witnesses had been heard, the attorneys received permission to present their remarks. Drummond, with Hart’s assistance, put forward a vigorous defence that made a strong impression on the court, which wondered whether in the case before it the death penalty would not be an excessive punishment. The president of the court martial, Major-General John Clitherow*, enquired if it was not possible to pronounce another sentence. Attorney General Charles Richard Ogden* replied that there was no choice, and Solicitor General Andrew Stuart expressed a similar opinion. Consequently, on 14 December the court martial sentenced to death all those who had been found guilty.

The court’s hesitations had perplexed Colborne somewhat. On 15 Dec. 1838 he asked the Executive Council to study the cases of the condemned men, in particular Duquet’s. The council held that Duquet should be considered a recidivist and that justice should take its course, just as for Cardinal. The sentences of the other condemned men were commuted to transportation.

Neither the intervention of the auxiliary bishop of Montreal, Ignace Bourget*, nor a pathetic appeal by Duquet’s mother had any effect. On 20 Dec. 1838 Drummond made a final attempt, calling attention to serious doubts about the legality of the trial. He asked that action be deferred until a competent court had given its opinion, declaring that if the sentence were carried out, the condemned men would be elevated from persons presumed guilty to martyrs to arbitrariness. Nothing availed.

In accordance with the sentence of the court, Cardinal and Duquet had to mount the scaffold on the morning of 21 Dec. 1838. Cardinal was executed first. When it was his turn to climb the steps, Duquet began to shiver and his teeth chattered. He had to be supported. When the trapdoor was sprung, the noose, which had been badly adjusted by the hangman, Humphrey, slipped and caught under the nose of the condemned man, who was thrown violently to one side and hit the ironclad framework of the gallows. His face battered and bleeding profusely, the hapless Duquet had not lost consciousness and was moaning loudly. The onlookers began yelling: “Pardon! pardon!” This agony was prolonged, it was said, for some 20 minutes, the time it took for the hangman to install a new rope and cut down the original one.

Joseph Duquet’s body was buried in the same grave as Cardinal’s in the old cemetery of Montreal, which is now the site of Dominion Square. The two martyred Patriotes’ remains were removed in 1858 to the cemetery of Notre-Dame-des-Neiges, where they rest under a monument to the Patriotes.

Monument des Patriotes-du-Cimetière-de-Notre-Dame-des-Neiges

Répertoire du patrimoine culturel du Québec

Source: “DUQUET, JOSEPH,” in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. 7, University of Toronto/Université Laval, 2003–, accessed January 24, 2026, https://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/duquet_joseph_7E.html

Charles Diel's 1684 Expedition: A Voyage to the Heart of the Pays d'en Haut

 

In the crisp, early autumn of 1684, Charles Diel dit Le Petit Breton felt the sharp bite of northern wind on his cheeks as he and his partners—Pierre Lefebvre and Antoine Caillé—loaded their birchbark canoe at the muddy banks near the Montreal River, just south of the growing settlement of La Prairie. The air carried the damp, earthy scent of fallen leaves mixed with the faint smoke from distant habitant fires. The canoe, a graceful 25-foot vessel of cedar ribs and birchbark sealed with pine pitch, groaned under the weight of crates: bolts of coarse wool cloth, iron axes glinting dully in the low sun, knives with bone handles, kettles that clanged softly, and small pouches of turquoise-blue glass seed beads that shimmered like fragments of summer sky. The sharp tang of brandy from a sealed barrel lingered in the air, promising warmth on cold nights.

They pushed off in late October, the water cold enough to numb fingers through gloves as paddles dipped rhythmically—splash, pull, drip—into the Ottawa River's dark current. The Ottawa route unfolded as a symphony of effort and beauty: the steady thunder of rapids ahead grew louder, drowning out conversation, until the men beached the canoe on gravel shores slick with frost. Portages were brutal—packs of 90 pounds or more strapped to forehead tumplines, the leather cutting into skin as they trudged over rocky trails. Sweat soaked wool shirts despite the chill, mingling with the pine resin scent of the forest and the metallic smell of wet stone. Mosquitoes had mostly vanished with the cold, but blackflies left itchy welts on exposed necks. At night, they camped on pine-needle beds, the crackle of a small fire warding off the encroaching dark, its smoke thick with spruce and birch bark. Meals were simple—dried peas boiled into pemmican-like mush, cornmeal cakes, perhaps fresh fish caught with a hook, tasting of river water and smoke.

As days turned to weeks, the river narrowed into twisting channels framed by dense conifer walls. The water's rush echoed off granite cliffs, punctuated by the distant calls of loons or the sharp crack of a beaver tail on the surface. Indigenous villages appeared—Ottawa or Algonquin—where smoke rose from longhouses, carrying the rich, savory aroma of roasting venison or fish over open flames. Here, Charles and his companions offered gifts: a handful of blue beads that caught the firelight, evoking admiration and cautious smiles, in exchange for guidance, food, or furs. Voices blended in broken Algonquian and French, the air warm with pipe tobacco and shared stories around flickering embers.

By early November, they reached the Straits of Mackinac—where Lake Huron and Lake Michigan met in a vast, wind-whipped expanse. The water here was colder, slate-gray under low clouds, with whitecaps slapping the canoe sides and spray stinging faces like icy needles. No permanent fort stood yet; the site was a seasonal gathering of temporary shelters: birchbark lodges, canvas tents, and scattered French traders' camps hugging the south shore near the Jesuit mission on the north. Smoke from dozens of fires hung low, thick with the scents of burning cedar, roasting meat, and curing hides. The air buzzed with multilingual chatter—French patois, Ottawa rhythms, Huron inflections—mingled with the rhythmic thump of pestles pounding corn and the distant howl of wolves at dusk.

Charles bartered amid this chaos: spreading his goods on a blanket near a fire whose warmth fought the creeping cold. The crunch of dried beaver pelts underfoot, the soft rustle of fur as pelts changed hands, the metallic clink of traded tools. Indigenous women, wrapped in blankets against the wind, examined beads with keen eyes, their fingers tracing the smooth glass. Brandy flowed in small measures, its sharp burn cutting through the chill, loosening tongues for better deals. Nights brought communal warmth: stories told in low voices, the pop of resin in the fire, the distant lap of waves on rocky shores, and the faint, comforting smell of tobacco mixed with pine smoke.

Charles did not linger long into winter's full grip. Family called him back—perhaps news of his daughter Marie-Anne's illness reached him through passing canoes. The return journey reversed the hardships: upstream paddling against currents that tugged relentlessly, portages now slick with early snow, the canoe lighter but the men wearier. Frost rimed beards and lashes; breath hung in white clouds. They reached La Prairie by early December, the familiar scent of woodsmoke from home fires welcoming them, just in time for the quiet burial of the infant child.

This 1684 expedition was raw immersion: the ache of paddle-blistered hands, the exhilaration of open water under vast skies, the sharp negotiation of scents and sounds in distant camps, and the quiet triumph of returning with pelts that would pay debts and feed dreams. For Charles, it was the sensory pulse of the frontier—cold, smoke-filled, alive—that shaped his legacy as a coureur des bois bridging La Prairie’s fields to the wild heart of the pays d'en haut.

Thanks to Grok xAI for this delightful tale.

Jacques Hugues Picard, known as Lafortune: Voyageur Grandfather

 

In the rolling hills of Brittany, France, around 1618, Jacques Hugues Picard was born in the village of St-Colombin near Nantes, to Gabriel Picard dit LaFortune and Michelle Clavier. Little is known of his early years, but as a young man in his mid-20s, he trained as a scieur de long—a sawyer skilled in cutting timber lengthwise, a trade that would prove invaluable in the untamed forests of the New World. Europe in the 17th century was a place of unrest, with religious wars and economic hardships pushing many to seek fortune elsewhere. For Picard, opportunity came in the form of a bold recruitment drive led by Paul de Chomedey, sieur de Maisonneuve, founder of Ville-Marie (later Montreal). 

On June 20, 1653, Picard enlisted as part of La Grande Recrue de Montréal, a group of about 100 hardy souls—mostly men—contracted to bolster the fledgling settlement against constant threats from Iroquois raids and the harsh wilderness. 

The journey across the Atlantic was fraught with peril. Aboard the leaky ship Saint-Nicolas de Nantes, the recruits endured storms, disease, and cramped quarters for over two months. They departed France in late June but faced delays when the vessel sprang leaks, forcing a return for repairs. Finally, they landed at Quebec on September 22, 1653, only to encounter resistance from Governor Jean de Lauzon, who initially refused them boats to proceed upriver to Montreal. Undeterred, the group pressed on, arriving in Ville-Marie on November 16. Picard's skills as a sawyer were immediately put to use in building fortifications and homes, but survival demanded more than labor. He joined the Milice de la Sainte-Famille, a local militia formed to defend the colony. Until the arrival of professional soldiers from the Carignan-Salières Regiment in 1665, Picard and his comrades stood vigilant against Iroquois ambushes, their lives a constant balance of toil and peril. 

By 1660, with the settlement stabilizing, Picard turned to building a family. On June 30, he married Anne-Antoinette de Liercourt, a widow who had lost her first husband, Blaise Juillet dit Avignon, to the dangers of the frontier. Born around 1634, Anne-Antoinette brought resilience and experience to their union, and together they raised a brood of children in Montreal, including daughter Marie-Anne Picard, born in 1663, who would later connect the lineage to descendants like Charles Diel, Marie Anne Diel, and onward through Marie Anne Dupuis, Marie Angelique Barette dit Courville, Marie Emélie Meunier Lagacé, to Lucy Pinsonneau (aka Passino), your 2nd great-grandmother. The couple's life was rooted in the growing community of Notre-Dame de Montréal, where Picard acquired land through grants and transactions, including leases and exchanges in the 1660s and 1670s that expanded his holdings. 

As Montreal evolved from a precarious outpost into a hub of the fur trade, Picard—now known as dit Lafortune, a sobriquet echoing his family's fortunate spirit—embraced the life of a voyageur. These intrepid travelers navigated vast river networks in birchbark canoes, hauling furs and goods through rapids, portages, and unpredictable weather. In 1677, at age 59, Picard joined a supply expedition to Fort Frontenac (now Kingston, Ontario), a strategic outpost built by Governor Louis de Buade de Frontenac at the mouth of the Cataraqui River. A census taken on September 7 that year lists Picard among the men delivering provisions, alongside figures like Lavigne, Bourbonnais, and Charles Diel—names that intertwined with his family's future. This voyage underscored his role in the expanding French presence in the Great Lakes region, where alliances with Indigenous nations like the Ottawa were crucial for trade. 

By the 1690s, as Montreal became a launchpad for western expeditions, Picard transitioned from frontline voyageur to merchant trader. No longer paddling the canoes himself, he hired others to venture into the pays d'en haut (upper country). Notarial records from Antoine Adhémar capture this shift: On July 23, 1688, Picard engaged François Balan dit Biron for an unspecified journey. In 1691, he hired Jean Pottier on April 29 and Toussaint Pothier on November 4. By April 29, 1693, roles reversed when Eustache Prévost, Jean Sauviot, and associates contracted Picard himself for a voyage to the Ottawa (8ta8ois) Indians, highlighting his expertise and networks. His sons, Jean-Gabriel and Jacques, followed in his footsteps, signing on as voyageurs, perpetuating the family's adventurous legacy in the fur trade. 

Jacques Hugues Picard dit Lafortune lived to see the fruits of his labors, outlasting the constant threats of war, wilderness, and winter. He passed away on December 22, 1707, at nearly 90 years old, in Notre-Dame de Montréal, the very settlement he had helped forge. Buried there alongside his wife, who died earlier that year, his story is one of resilience and reinvention—from Breton sawyer to colonial pioneer, voyageur, and trader. Through his descendants, including the line tracing to your 2nd great-grandmother Lucy Pinsonneau, his spirit of fortune endures, a testament to the bold souls who shaped early Canada. 

Jacques Hugues Picard dit Lafortune (1618-1707) 9th great-grandfather

son of Gabriel Picard dit LaFortune (1590-1660) and Michelle Clavier (1598-1660)

Born ABT 1618 • St Columbin, Nantes, Brittany, France

Death 22 DEC 1707 • Our Lady of Montreal, Quebec, Canada

Marriage 1660 to Antoinette Liercourt (1634-1707)

• 1653 , arrived as part of La Grande Recrue de Montréal

• 1677 , voyageur transporting goods to Fort Frontenac…

Frontenac took a census of Fort Frontenac: September 7, 1677 – Frontenac took a census of Fort Frontenac. Many of the men who would accompany La Salle on his future voyages were residents of the Fort. By this time, La Salle had made most of his improvements to the fort. Following are names of the individuals recorded in the census: La Salle (governor), François Daupin, sieur de LaForest (major), Louis Hennepin (a Récollet), Luc Buisset (a Récollet), Sieur Jean Péré. Soldiers: La Fleur (sergeant), Duplessis, La Boise, Jean Baptiste Fafard dit Macons/Macouce, Meunier/Meusnier dit Laliberté, Jean Michel, André Hunault, Deslauriers, Antoine Brossard (ordered to go to meet the Onondaga), Lévéille (gone down to Montréal to bring up the carpenter disembarked lately), Gabriel Barbier dit LeMinime/Mimine (ordered into the brigantine), Jacques Bourdon, sieur d'Autray (ordered into the brigantine), Maheu (ordered into the brigantine), Jean la Rouxelière/Rouxcel de Larousselière (surgeon absent on duty), Cauchois/Cochois (a servant of sieur de La Salle, ordered into the brigantine), Fontaine (a pilot of the barque called Le Frontenac ). Workers: Olivier Quesnel (an armorer), Moïse Hilaret (ship's carpenter gone down to make a shallop in Lac St. Sacrament), Jean Fontaine (ship's carpenter gone down to make a shallop in Lac St. Sacrament), Laforge (the blacksmith gone to take them), Pierre Lecellier, Jolycoeur, Louis Méline, Jean Baptiste Brossard, Dubois (tailor gone down to Montréal ten days ago, sick), Joseph (joiner gone down to Montréal ten days ago, sick), Louis Douceregnié, Larose/La Rosée (mason), Jean Baptiste Caron/Colon/Coron dit La Violette de Paris (mason), Thomas Brésil (mason), René Gervais (mason), Pierre Perrault/Perot (carpenter), Pierre Perrault/Perot (his son), Jean Barraud, Antoine Alain. Residents: Curaillon, Jean Michaud (has his wife and four children), Jacques de LaMétairie, Mathurin Grégoire (wife and three children). In addition to the individuals named in the census, the following men brought supplies to Fort Frontenac: Lavigne, Bourbonnais, Charles Diel, [Jacques Hugues? not stated] Picard , Pigoret, Larivière de Tours, Charles Ptolomée, Nicolas Bonhomme, Nicolas Gagné/Gaigner, Laforge, and Charlier.44 

Source: French-Canadian Exploration, Missionary Work, and Fur Trading in Hudson Bay, the Great Lakes, and Mississippi Valley During the 17th Century – Part 6 – 1674 to December 1681 Diane Wolford Sheppard© 2010, 2014, FCHSM member (bluecolumbine@comcast.net) 

Earlier file & documents: Jacques Hugues Picard dit Lafortune — Voyageur Grandfather

https://laprairie-voyageur-canoes.blogspot.com/2019/04/jacques-hugues-picard-dit-lafortune.html

Voyageurs Moccasins or Souliers De Boeuf

 

Not long ago I came across the term, “Souliers De Boeuf,” and I was sure I had seen it on one of my ancestors voyageur engagement contracts.

Sure enough, I found it on Gabriel Pinsonneau’s (4th great-grandfather) 1797 contract with Jacques and François Lasselle for a trip to Detroit.

His contract notes state, “uen couverte 3 ptes, six aunes de cotton, une pr souliers de boeuf,” meaning (a three-point blanket, a standard trade item valued by its woven stripes indicating size and quality), "six aunes de cotton" (six ells—about 7 yards—of cotton fabric for making shirts or other garments), and "une pr souliers de boeuf" (a pair of beef shoes).

So what exactly are “Souliers De Boeuf” (Beef or Oxen Shoes)? It turns out they were a heavy cowhide moccasin made by Montreal cordonniers (English: shoemakers) for use by the voyageurs.

The idea behind Souliers De Boeuf was the result of the blending First Nations or Native American moccasins with French colonial shoes. 

Apparently French inhabitants saw the practicality of deerhide moccasins, and decided to use very thick cowhide to make them stronger and more durable.

Coureur des Bois mariage à la façon du pays & decorated moccasins

Coureur des Bois and North men or "hivernants" most likely wore moccasins made by their Native and Mixed-Blood 'country wives,’ and some of these probably had elaborate beadwork.

It turns out that another of our ancestors was a master “Cordonnier” or shoemaker located in Montreal who made his living creating Souliers De Boeuf for La Prairie voyageurs…

The Cordonnier's Craft in the Heart of New France

In the bustling cobblestone streets of Montréal in the early 18th century, where the sharp clang of blacksmith hammers mingled with the salty tang of the St. Lawrence River drifting through open workshop doors, Jacques Marié dit Lemarié (1687-1742)(our 6th great-grandfather), a maître cordonnier of renown, bent over his worn oak bench, his calloused fingers deftly stitching layers of thick cowhide under the flicker of a tallow candle. Born in Neuville amid the rugged frontiers of New France, Jacques had inherited a legacy of craftsmanship from a line of resilient French settlers—his father Charles Marier dit Ste-Marie and mother Marie Madeleine Garnier dit Laforge had instilled in him the art of turning raw hides into tools for survival. By 1721, married to Marie Angélique Duquet dit Desroches in Rivière-des-Prairies, he had fathered a growing family, their modest home echoing with the laughter of children like Marie-Angélique and Jacques Jr., while the scent of curing leather permeated every corner, a constant reminder of his trade's vital role in the fur empire.

As a master shoemaker, Jacques specialized in souliers de boeuf—those sturdy, unyielding moccasins that bridged the wild ingenuity of Indigenous designs with the robust practicality of colonial needs. Each pair began with the selection of prime cowhide, tanned to a deep mahogany sheen in vats bubbling with oak bark solutions that filled the air with a pungent, earthy aroma. He cut the soles thick and broad, double-layered for the punishing portages where voyageurs hauled canots over jagged rocks, their feet sinking into mud that squelched like wet clay. The uppers, soft yet resilient, were molded from supple leather, often reinforced with rawhide laces drawn tight like bowstrings, ensuring they hugged the foot through endless days of paddling foaming rapids or trudging snow-laden trails. Jacques would pound the hides with a wooden mallet, the rhythmic thuds echoing like distant thunder, before sewing them with waxed sinew threads that resisted the bite of river water and the grind of gravel.

Word of his craftsmanship spread among Montréal's merchants and outfitters, who commissioned dozens for their voyageur crews. Imagine a crisp autumn morning in 1730: a burly engagé like your distant kin Gabriel Pinsonneau—though generations apart—might have stepped into Jacques's shop, the bell tinkling softly as he entered, carrying the faint musk of beaver pelts from his last expedition. "Maître Lemarié," he'd say, his voice gravelly from chansons sung around campfires, "I need shoes that won't fail me on the Detroit run—something to outlast the devil's own portages." Jacques, wiping sweat from his brow with a leather apron stained by years of toil, would measure the man's feet with a notched stick, then set to work, hammering brass tacks for extra grip and rubbing in bear grease that left a glossy sheen, repelling the chill spray of the Ottawa River. These souliers de boeuf weren't mere footwear; they were lifelines, blending the soft, silent tread of deerhide moccasins worn by coureurs des bois—often beaded intricately by Indigenous women at posts like Michilimackinac—with the enduring strength of ox leather, perfect for the hivernants overwintering in frozen lodges.

Jacques's legacy wove through the veins of New France's fur trade, his shoes carrying men like the Lasselle brothers' hires across vast waters, their soles imprinting the paths that mapped a continent. By the time of his passing in 1742, buried in the soil of Pointe-aux-Trembles where his descendants would continue the craft, his work had outfitted countless souls chasing fortunes in pelts. In the glow of his forge, amid the scrape of awls and the warm scent of polished hides, Jacques Marié dit Lemarié embodied the quiet artisans who armed the adventurers, one stitch at a time, ensuring the river's call was met with feet unyielding.

Native women living in New France or at trading posts often made moccasins for sale to voyageurs, soldiers, and other inhabitants.

Reproduct moccasins are still available from makers like Loyalist Arms

http://www.loyalistarms.freeservers.com/oxhideshoes18thcentury.html

SOURCES:

NativeTech: Native American Technology and Art

http://www.nativetech.org/clothing/moccasin/moctext.html

Gabe the Shootist

https://gabetheshootist.com/2012/02/21/souliers-de-boeuf/

Posted February 21, 2012

Mlle Canadienne

http://mllecanadienne.blogspot.com/2016/06/souliers-de-boeuf.html

mercredi 22 juin 2016

Updated from 2019, with enhanced narrative courtesy of Grok xAI. Thank you.