Issues → March/April 2008 → Interact → 10 Things To Do →
Classic: Making Maple Syrup
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The Howrigans use the horses only in the spring, for collecting sap. The rest of the year, Scott and Moses and the other three teams they own are out to pasture, "living the life of Reilly," according to Robert Howrigan.
Danny and Robbie sit in the strong spring sun. The trees are still bare, but it's easy to know that real spring will soon come to these northern woods. Like their father, they know about all there is to know about sugaring. They know about the warm side of the woods and the cold side. They know which trees are the sweet trees and which ones aren't much good. They know these trees like a herd they keep. "They have to know all the trees by their first names," Robert Howrigan says. And they do. Most trees yield sap that is two or three percent syrup. A three percent tree is considered a really sweet tree. The Howrigans claim that they have an eight percent tree.
But this is their favorite part, just being out here in the woods on a day like this. As the season moves, they do also, moving with the sun from the warm side into the cold side, where the sap has finally begun to move. Farming is hard now. The sugaring is just a small part of their business, which is primarily dairying. "We spend an awful lot of time on the books," Robbie says, shaking his head. Less and less time out in the air. "Want a ride back?" Danny offers.
"Sure," says Shelley. She packs up the cooler and hops onto the wagon, holding on to the side of the vat. The sap sloshes inside as the horses toil up over a large boulder and then strain as the wagon tilts down the other side. A few more buckets down the line, the horses are in the clear and their spirits lift. They pick up speed, and Danny leans on the reins to try to hold them back. These horses have done this so often, they are like children arguing for one good reason why they have to go slowly. Once they hit the road that leads down to the sugarhouse, Danny has to use all his might to rein them in as they make their way to the sugarhouse. Spill the whole vat and that's a morning wasted. And, as his father has always said, in sugaring there's no tomorrow.
It is sweet and steamy inside the sugarhouse. The vats are as big as houses and the men stand on ramps to watch the sap as it boils. Robert Howrigan claims that his grandfather was a very sickly man who suffered terribly from asthma and rheumatoid arthritis. All through the winter, he walked about in pain. But once he got into the sugarhouse, the steam would cure his asthma and the syrup would loosen up his joints. "Every year you'd think he wasn't going to make it, and then once they got that sap boiling, he was good for another year. Yes, yes," he says, after a long, thoughtful pause, "maple has been very good to us."
On the windowsill of the sugarhouse are small clear bottles filled with syrup, each a different shade of copper. At the end of the line is a bottle of ketchup. "The guys like to throw hot dogs into the vat and boil them up to keep themselves going," Shelley explains. More often than not, the boiling goes on throughout the night. "Sap is not like whiskey," Robert Howrigan says. "It does not improve with age. You've got to boil it right away and make way for the next day's crop." A sweet hot dog goes a long way in the middle of the night.
Fairfield is one of the biggest maple-syrup-producing towns in Vermont. Most likely that is because of the Howrigans. Robert and his sons are not the only Howrigans who make syrup. Robert's two brothers and their offspring also do a keen business. The Howrigan clan is a close family, and the celebration of St. Patrick's Day here rivals Christmas.
Still, they don't tell each other how many gallons they make each year. Nor will they say how many trees they've tapped. Their father used to advise them not to share that information with anyone. "You do that, and it'll depress the price!" he told them. And so they don't, not even with each other. It's a friendly competition but a competition nonetheless. "I always tell people, 'We made enough for the house and some to sell,' " Robert Howrigan says. And he laughs his merry Irish laugh.
From the sugarhouse Shelley walks across the road to the house. Inside, her father-in-law is still in the rocker, Annah fast asleep in his arms. Sitting as he is, in the strong March sunlight, his lids are heavy, too.
Seven generations. Annah is the last for Danny and Shelley, whose oldest child is now a teenager. Another maple season is coming to an end. It is nearly the turn of the century, and Robert Howrigan's 75 years in the sugar bush are on the wane. But here is Annah. "Sweet child," Robert Howrigan says, getting up to place her gently into her crib.
Reader Comments
Comment from Warren Phelps on February 21, 2008
Being originallly from Connecticut and seeing my mother tap a maple tree in Avon, Conn. as a child, it makes me long for Vermont. I have been there several times and would live there if I could afford a good warm house and a fireplace or cast iron stove. Several years ago, I spent several days with Montpelier as home base and drove to various towns of interest. On my way back south I felt as if the river beside the highway was offering me a race to the bottom. Stories of winter hardships overcome and maple sugaring are a delight for me, now living in Missouri. Thank you for this awesome website! Warren Phelps
Comment from Karen Beaudreau on March 23, 2008
I live right here in Vermont, the southern end. I can relate to maple sugaring. My husband and I tapped some trees at his parents property,( maybe 5 years ago back when propane was $6.00 a fill ) and we brought it back to our place to boil it on a propane burner with a high pressure regulator,and when we boiled it down far enough we brought it in the house and finished it off on the stove. I really like the darker maple syrup it has more of a maple flavor. I always like to read articles on sugaring Thank You Karen Beaudreau
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