As we moved into the new home and new environment at the end of Valley Road, with the Harry Fehlbergs just over the way across a ravine, and August Fehlberg just down the valley from us, I was intrigued by some grotesque objects sitting in the fields, with whiffs of steamy smoke coming from them. There were one or two on several farms about here, and I noticed a number of them further beyond our area. These were of variable size, but mostly of the shape of a gabled mound about eight feet high, six or more feet wide and ten feet long. From base to apex it was covered with turf, so that in appearance it was a large symmetrical mound of earth. Who made these, and what were they doing here, steaming and smoking? It was Uncle August, I discovered. He was “uncle” to us because he had married my mother’s sister, Augusta, so she was always “Auntie Gusta”. It was her husband that knew how to make charcoal out of the abundance of trees that had fallen; and the farmers were only too happy to have them disappear so they could utilize the land.
These logs would be sawn into 8 or 10 feet lengths, rolled together, the smaller ones rolled on top, others on them, till the heap of wood gradually came to an apex. Then Uncle August would cut the turf from the surrounding earth and cover the whole, leaving enough open wood to start a fire on top of the pile of logs. When this was burning in some depth, after many hours, and the heat was intense within, he would close the kiln completely. There would be no atmosphere and no flame but a smouldering heat that would not consume the wood but char it with a saturating heat so that it was no longer wood but charcoal. It would take two or three weeks for the heat to spend itself on its consuming elements, until there was no steam or misty smoke coming from the charcoal kiln. Uncle would then rake off all the earth and expose a great pile of charcoal which he would fill into bags and sell to blacksmiths and other users.
There are many uses for this carbonated wood. It is widely used as fuel, for filters in purifying water, polishing powder, absorbing gases, and even as medicine, both internal and external. While in Africa my wife, Frances, had her finger crushed in the car door during a delightful holiday. Ivan Smith, our nephew, using an old home remedy, made a poultice of charcoal powder. This relieved the pain and in the morning the wound was in good shape and on the way to healing. Uncle August had a fine farm, but I reckoned, by the loads of charcoal, this must have been his most profitable business. It cost him nothing for basic material, as the farmers were pleased to get rid of the logs. He built two kilns on our place and provided great interest to us boys.
Uncle August Fehlberg once dropped a financial bomb on the upright citizenry of Bismarck. He bought a ticket in the famous Tattersall’s Sweepstakes, and won ten thousand pounds. He was never the same again.
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