And there you have it in its entirety: a white man’s tale; that of Sugarloaf’s Great Beaver, which stood till the dawning of our 21st century. Field, Sheldon, and Pressey were from another time and mindset, and their published work stood as the accepted Sugarloaf Beaver Myth until the turn of the 21st century. I’d rather continue piecing together the puzzle for a future narrative. This person is a Native American woman who ran a hilltown summer camp to which I had sent my grammar-school sons. Algonquian legend credited Hobomock with reducing the giant beaver and squirrel to today’s more-manageable, less dangerous and destructive size. It’ll take weeks, maybe months, of research to connect all the loose ends for an accurate reconstruction picture. Talk about a needle in a haystack, a random discovery like that, in deep woods no less, should never happen. Thomas had discovered an informative video by Kassabaum about the underwater panther and queried her, while Gramly thought it wise to run it past Bourque, a longtime friend and colleague who’s seen many Maine petroglyphs. I’ve been playing this game since 1989, starting in the weeks after my spinster great-aunt Gladys Sanderson died overnight during the summer of 1989. View %{phrase} images. A treasure trove of local history focused on the old Hatfield/Whately neighborhood called Canterbury, the peripheral information among many debits and credits enhanced some of the Hatfield records most interesting to me personally. Nonetheless, not so much as a word about it from Wells and Wells, and also not a word about its pioneer settlers. Book online! Patrons enjoyed songs Some alehouses certainly offered more than cakes and ale. Sans taint or stain, What was his claim to fame? I assisted him in photographing the old, handwritten Hatfield town, church, and proprietors’ records dating back to 1660. The pioneer flame burned just as brightly among Zachery Field’s descendants, many of them Indian fighters and ground-breakers for early towns like Deerfield, Northfield and Sunderland. He was insensible and had a bad cut on his chin. In fact, that seems most likely. ... For the medieval traveller, dining on the open road depended largely on your social class and the hostelry you chose to stay at. So goes the tale of Montague’s mysterious underwater panther. That is, hunters who had taken bucks weighing a minimum of 200 pounds. Midsummer--the celebrations and music moved to the local pub. The fare includes such dishes as Lentil soup with meat balls, green Swabian cheese dumplings, ox-tongue with wild seafood, grilled chicken knuckles with plums, … A buffalo robe was found on the top of the engine’s flagstaff and one bag of meal on the cow catcher. Medieval Fayre 2020: There & Back Again * * * * * * Counting finished! Actually, the younger Brooks, 49, completed each step of her degree path a little earlier than Bruchac, earning her BA from Goddard College in 1993, her MA from Boston College in 1998, and her PhD at Cornell in 2004. The Dolphin (Dolphyn) was the name of a tavern near St. Magnus’ Church. I know the hunter had a Polish surname, one beginning with M and ending in ski. Even so, it remains true that the new paradigm should never be accepted as the one told 2,000 years BC. Drunk driving? With a great stake in hand, he waded the river until he found the beaver, and so hotly chased him that he sought to escape by digging into the ground. In his extensive genealogies, Sheldon labels as Sugarloaf that Deerfield village hugging the Whately line between the mountain and the Connecticut River. posted in Columns, Indians, Local history, South Deerfield | Thus, the deep-history tale told thousands of years before what late historian Francis Jennings calls the European invasion will never be known. I already miss Scott’s quiet presence out in his yard, across the street at one of his barns or walking the roads on his smiling daily rounds; and I miss his soft voice, his local wisdom, and his warm blue Yankee eyes that reminded a lot me of my father’s. When I ran into a particularly vexing snag, I’d compose a concise query in the CompuServe forum and typically receive a prompt and professional answer with a greeting of “Hi Cuz” or “Hello Cuzzin.”. That, I decided, would have to wait until I had them available on my hard drive. Medieval Tavern. He’d found an online column of mine expressing confidence about the existence of ancient petroglyphs and pictographs still to be discovered in our slice of the Connecticut Valley. Today, this abrupt, twisted landform we know as Sugarloaf – for millennia a visual reference for travelers and an observation point for residents – continues to challenge storytellers to conform the Beaver Tale to the times. I thought heads should roll for unjustified killings of peaceful protestors exercising their right of peaceful assembly under the First Amendment. For the less affluent Back then I even happened upon a small Sixties artist commune hidden there, the members of which summered in twine-bound lean-tos off Henhawk Road. She was a gracious hostess to me and Thomas during a two-hour, June 12 visit to her home. It’s a fitting final resting place for the man who, in 1831, married Chloe Maxwell Leavitt, granddaughter of Charlemont’s conservative minister Rev. In a foul mood, this lurking creature was known to emerge from the depths to pull swimmers and boaters to drowning death. It doesn’t matter. Displaying one between my thumb and forefinger, I encouraged him to select only the soft, purple berries, promising he’d be mighty happy with the results. My family was no exception. “Why do you keep doubting it’s real?” he barked. Back then, as sports editor of the Greenfield Recorder, I was in the early years of cranking out a weekly Thursday outdoors column titled “On the Trail.” Come archery deer season each November, I’d dig out my detailed, annotated list of western Massachusetts deer-checking-station phone numbers and call every last one of them weekly looking for good copy about remarkable hunts. Some may call that a lesson learned. First, the glyph’s straight edges and depth suggested metal tools to him. First written as two words, Sugar Loaf, in Colonial documents, it was a common European name for mountains that looked from afar like the molded, conical lumps of sugar people bought in the marketplace. Natural occurrences were seldom if ever viewed as simple coincidence, and could always be related to familiar, ancient tales known for millennia and told around cozy winter fires capable of stirring creative juices of storyteller and listener alike. Still on cloud nine, he was more than willing to share how his hunt played out, recounting every minute detail: from the scrape line the buck had pawed into the forest floor, to the placement of his stand and buck lure, to the animal’s cautious approach, to the entry-point of the mortal arrow. Known to state wildlife biologists as “The Four Corners,” because Whately, Williamsburg, Ashfield, and Conway meet there, I preferred to hunt the ridges traversed by Henhawk Trail, an old Indian footpath and discontinued road leading from the Whately-Williamsburg line to Cricket Hill in Conway. Can you imagine what would become of similar pranksters today? We were still chatting when Dassatti returned from his photo-shoot. By the late 17th century, the diaspora of southern New England Natives brought them west to the Berkshires and upper Hudson Valley, north to the upper reaches of Lake Champlain, and as far west as the Upper Great Plains, where they assimilated into the dominant societies. Today lower River Road, Sheldon wanted to differentiate between it and the Bloody Brook and Mill River villages on the mountain’s west side. the third or fourth part where it would be difficult to hear. Live and learn, I did. Sparse, wispy-white clouds creeping eastward in the soothing, pale-blue sky. Eleven years later, in her 2016 PVMA online essay “The Geology and Cultural History of the Beaver Hill Story,” she still used the documented Pocumtuck names for landscape features and locations. What I do remember is Ena M. Cane’s update of Temple’s and Crafts’ Whately histories and genealogies with a bicentennial book of her own. We climbed under the fence and walked to the edge of the pond basin in which it stood. Word of the tree’s rapid demise came to me by phone from friend Dennis Dassatti, who gardens in the rich, fertile North Meadows. So, it didn’t take long for not only Canterbury but the entire west side of the river to become irrelevant to Judd. What I now know but didn’t back then is that Hatfield actually goes back more than 350 years. Not men or mammals, fish or frogs, snakes or salamanders, ducks or geese. I was on a first-name basis with many station attendants stretching from Worcester to Pittsfield. He died at 88 a couple of months ago, removing yet another valuable historical source who knew the land surrounding his expansive farm like no other. Whately was his hometown. Elm trees have no gender. Though few knew his name, it was Ulmus Americana, more commonly American Elm – a dying breed that once lined our streets and neighborhoods as deciduous shade trees. Fidgety children likely heard the short version of such stories around the spring fires of Peskeompskut (now Turners Falls) fishing camps, or in association with a Green Corn Moon festival. Yet they couldn’t have appeared in a timelier fashion. providing food and drink --a jug of beer or ale, served by a Though I’d often learn by word of mouth about local hunters’ success, even then I’d get confirmation from the men and women who weighed and recorded deer kills at state fish hatcheries and private gun shops. 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