One of the more colorful and uninhibited characters
of the Spring Coulee district during the early decades
of the present century was a Boer War veteran and
ex-mountie named George Edgar Wildman. Many and
varied are the versions of his indiscretions during his
years in the N.W.M.P..

As the stories of his breaches of discipline have come
to me only as heresy I will mention only one that was
told to me by an eye witness and I think it is quite
authentic.

When the constable was stationed in Magrath, a ranch
hand who was in town made some remarks in George's
presence about the poor marksmanship of the mounties
in general. George decided that he would show him that
here was one mountie that could hit what he was
shooting at and went to the Police Barracks for his rifle.
This gave the ranch hand some second thoughts and
he took off for his home ranch at a high gallop, but
when George got his rifle he was still in range, so
George started banging away at him, but about all he
proved was that the ranch hand was at least partly
right, as he, the ranch hand rode out of range
unscathed. I think it was soon after this incident that
constable Wildman became an ex-mountie.

George was at Spring Coulee and as a civilian he engaged
in farming or doing custom hauling in the neighborhood.
He hauled much of the material that went into the
construction of the C.P.R. headgates that were built
two miles south of Spring Coulee in 1916.

While George was not aggressive, he surely never let
anyone walk over him nor was he backward about
expressing his opinion on any subject.

Only twice do I recall that he stirred up a bit of
excitement.

Once a couple of strong hearted pranksters purloined
his Christmas cheer and he went looking for them
with his shotgun, but fortunately for all concerned
he failed to catch up with them. So George had a dry
Christmas, unless some good samaritan shared up
with him. On another occasion he barged into the
pool hall operated by Dave Boyd with about a five
pound rock in his hand in search of someone that had
roused his ire, but his quarry wasn't to be found there
so George could only make known to all and sundry
what would happen when he caught up with the
object of his wrath. I don't think he ever did catch
up with the man he was after. (Perhaps the weight of
the rocks he was carrying slowed him down a bit) for I
never heard of any native having his head crushed
between two rocks.

During the time George was engaged in custom hauling
he was located at a set of buildings just south of Spring
Coulee. Quite often during the winter months a friendly
game of penny ante would be in progress there and if
some of the humor that was generated at these
sessions could be brought back to the present day
we wouldnst need TV. When old age began to creep
up on George I once heard him make the remark that
when it came his turn to go over the hill he would have
no regrets for while he had lived he had lived to the hilt.

A viewpoint with which I think most people who had known
George would fully agree.

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