Ed Jackson of Harriston

Born: March 24, 1911 Greenbush, Ont.

Died: May 13, 2010 of age related illness

Ed Jackson was connected to the farm and his livestock just as surely as the sun rose over his little Harriston property each morning. There was a pull to the land for Ed, a sense of peace and of place.

“He was always with the animals, even as a kid,” said son John Jackson of Kitchener. “If there was an animal with an ailment, he knew what it needed. He tended to treat himself the same way.” Perhaps that particular skill accounts for Ed raising and showing sheep until he was 91 then living to nearly 100.

Ed was the eldest of three sons, though one brother died in childhood. The family farmed near Fulton Mills, an area between Clifford and Harriston now called Greenbush, and it was there that Ed developed his skills as a herdsman and a showman starting at age 13.

Ed stayed on the farm until age 29 when he married Irene Hooper, a pretty girl who lived on a farm the next line over. Irene was a teacher in a one-room school house, having completed her teacher’s training in both the Stratford Normal school and in Toronto. They married in 1940 and, as was mandatory in those days, Irene had to give up teaching. She instead would become a busy mother of four and a supporting wife to a livestock-crazy husband.

After they married, Ed left the family farm and, unable to afford his own place, the couple moved near Cambridge where he took a farm job. In 1942 he landed a prestigious position with Jarvis Hereford Farms, a large-scale breeding operation where he quickly proved his ability to produce top performers. Ed stayed until 1951, when he contracted a highly contagious disease called brucellosis from the cattle. His career with livestock was almost over, but not quite.

The family moved back to Harriston to a small acreage outside of town with just enough land for Ed to raise a few head of sheep while working full time at the feed mill in town. He soon proved not only a hard-working employee but a valuable source for farmers. Ed just seemed to know the right mixture of feed necessary for the farmers’ livestock, whether it was adding a bit of molasses or decreasing the corn content.

“The farmers appreciated him,” John said. “He became their chief adviser. He understood what animals needed.”

Working in the feed mill by day, Ed also ran a sheep-breeding operation, focusing on Oxford and Shropshire sheep, considered rare, heritage breeds that were nearly extinct in Canada at the time.

“He had many grand champions,” John said. “He’d go to the Royal (Winter Fair). The only vacation he ever took from the mill was to go to the Royal. He’d sleep in the barn, with the sheep. He loved it. He’d get to talk to sheep farmers and lots of people. He was competing against people from across the country.”

Ed retired from the mill at age 71, vigorous as a man decades younger and John is amazed his father never developed cancer having inhaled all sorts of grain dusts in the feed mill.

“He didn’t have hearing aids, his hearing was fine,” John said. “His eyes, his hearing, walking were all good. He was very aware of his body.” John was astounded at his father’s deep understanding of his own health and the self-discipline he’d exert. Any negative change in his body meant Ed abruptly altered his lifestyle, such as when he gave up doughnuts cold turkey. “He quit, just like that,” John said.

Despite his good health, by age 91, Ed was growing tired of heading to the barn on bitter February and March mornings to ensure the ewes were birthing healthy lambs. “Sheep are not great at delivering without help,” noted John. It was time for Ed and Irene to move into an apartment in Harriston.

Irene died of liver cancer in 2005 and though grieving his loss, Ed carried on living climbing into his old half-ton pickup truck every day for the drive to Tim Hortons and a gab session with his buddies. It seemed Ed would live forever, but just two months after his 99th birthday, he died in his kitchen.

As a father, John recalls Ed was a gentle man with a “phenomenal memory” a man who read constantly, kept up on current events, a real family guy yet he wasn’t prone to praise his kids, at least not to their faces. John and his siblings, Ruth, Donald and Joan, usually learned from other people how their father bragged about them. “He didn’t really show emotion,” John said. “But you knew he was proud.”

Daughter Ruth Howell of Michigan described her father as kind, hard working and ready to help anyone in need. “My childhood memory is the Sunday drives through the countryside. We even went to Tobermory and back the same day one time. He had a very sharp memory and I liked listening to him talk about family history and the history of the community.”

John said people loved listening to Ed’s colourful tales of an earlier Harriston. “He remembered in detail,” John said. “With him gone, that history is gone too.”

vhill@therecord.com