WILKET CREEK ARTIFACT
Our final stop along the
Don River system keeps us to the West Don branch by way of a
tributary known today as Wilket Creek. "Wilket" seems to be
a surname of rather obscure origin. Indeed, it is a matter of mere
guesswork that, through consulting the Oxford Names Companion
(in which this name does not appear), we should link it to the given
name Will, which has spawned similar diminutive and patronymic
variants such as Wilkin, Wilkens, Willet, and Wilcock. As to the
original "Will" of these cognomens, it is likely itself a
diminutive of one of various common Old English names such as
William, Willard, Wilbur, and Wilfred, in which the primary syllable
has retained its meaning to the present day in the sense of "desire,"
"intention," "willpower," etc. According
to the ONC, however, in certain cases "will" may
instead refer to a water "well" or "spring,"
coming from the West Saxon root of wiell(a). Going by the
book, the next most likely link, after this, would be to the
Walcott/Walken/Walch family of surnames which all stem from the Old
English wealh (and the earlier Germanic walho), a term
for any "stranger" or "foreigner."
Beyond here, it is
perhaps too far a stretch to pose any connection with the Polish
surname Wilk, meaning "wolf;" or to the surname Welk, which
has various meanings depending on whether you're referring to its
German, Dutch, English, or Slavic iteration. Perhaps the closest
equivalent is the French name Wilquet, but all this conjecture may be
moot in any case considering the original name for this creek was not
even "Wilket," but rather "Milne." In a mapping
mixup worthy of Ptolemy's earlier Avoca confusion, it seems that
sometime during the 1950's Milne Creek became Wilket after the
original Wilket Creek, further to the north, was mislabelled as the
Newtonbrook Creek — itself a name now estranged from a certain
Newton's Brook, today lost somewhere beneath the modern sprawl of
North York.
In "Milne" we
thankfully have a much more straightforward, if somewhat less
intriguing, toponym; a simple Scottish version of the common surname
Miller which refers, of course, to someone who worked, or lived by a
mill. What re-ignites our intrigue, however, is a peculiar artifact
found by the side of this creek in Windfields Park: a simple concrete
cube, roughly three feet all around, with a rectangular opening on
the north facing side, that one could, conceivably, mistake as the
remains of a miniature mill, if not some similar structure.
Although its dwarven
dimensions would seem to preclude any such use, the area's extensive
milling history is clearly reinforced by certain local denominations.
Just as the East Don ruin sits downstream from the Villaways housing
complex, we note that our current subject sits not very much farther
from a Millway complex, at the intersection of Bayview Avenue and
York Mills Road. Of some additional interest is the fact that, among
the Anvil, Cartwheel, and Powderhorn Millways of this particular
complex, we find both a "Crimson" and "Maroon"
Millway, absent of any other colours.
Beyond these rather
domestic points, one may also recall how such devices figure in the
concept of a "World" or "Cosmic Mill," prevalent
throughout Indo-European (if not global) mythology, which at once is
said to grind-out and grind-up all the material of this earth and, in
some cases, maintain the very rotation of time and the universe
itself. Instances of this idea were first uncovered/introduced in the
writings of the 19th century Swedish polymath Viktor Rydberg, and
were then most famously catalogued in Giorgio de Santillana and
Hertha von Dechend's 1969 book Hamlet's Mill; the title being
a reference to the fabled Danish prince and his supposed connection
to a vast, sub-aquatic mill which has come down to us as the
Maelstrom. Considering the mentions of Denmark at our previous ruins, can it be mere further coincidence that in the
adjacent Banbury subdivision, just to the east of this creek and its
"mill," we find both a "Cosmic" Drive and a
"Hamlet" Gate?
Lest we now start getting
too far afield from the actual artifact in question (in terms of both
location and purpose), let us return to its immediate vicinity at
Windfields Park. "Windfields," rather than describing some
particularly breezy plain, is likely a variant of the English
habitational name Winfield or Wingfield, a place found throughout
England and, depending on which you're referring to, could mean
either "open pasture" (Derbyshire, from wynn +
feld), "a meadow frequented by lapwing birds"
(Bedfordshire, from wince + feld), "a field of warlike
people" (Suffolk, from wiga + feld), or possibly
the "field of a pagan temple" (also Suffolk, from weoh +
feld).
Putting aside the more
prosaic meaning of "open pasture," we first note the
lapwing to be a bird of often sinister prestige, associated with
deception and ill-omen. Its deceptive, insincere reputation stems
from a tactic of luring predators from their nesting sites by
fluttering and crying in opposite, far-off directions — hence such
maxims as "the lapwing cries most, farthest from her nest."
And it is this cry which has also earned the lapwing its reputation
as a dark harbinger, specifically in English-speaking realms, as it
is said to sound not unlike someone calling "Bewitched!
Bewitched!"
Interestingly enough, the
lapwing was also an early emblem of Lower Egypt (land, as we have
already seen, of the original "red kings"), likely since it
is such a common site in the Nile Delta during winter months. It
seems mostly, however, to have been employed in this way as an
epithet by the rulers of Upper Egypt to signify the Lower Egyptians
subjugation to them, having the bird usually depicted with its wings
clipped, or under the foot of a "white king." By the time
of the New Kingdom this symbol appears to have been applied to any
enemy of Egypt, though also to the Egyptian people themselves when
used in conjuction with a basket and star to form a hieroglyphic
rebus meaning "to give praise," or "worship."
Might we, then, have in this one "Windfields" a name
encompassing lapwings, warfare, and pagan adoration,
all in the same open space?