Jonathan Leavitt, whose palatial, Georgian-colonial home – The Manse – still stands along a discontinued dirt road 1.5 miles north of Field’s grave. The truth is that the Pocumtuck and Western Abenaki people occupied different territories, practiced somewhat different lifeways based on climate, and spoke barely mutually intelligible dialects of the base Eastern Algonquian language. Pompey, in Measure for Measure calls himself a Could it possibly be unknown to locals? I studied the series of shots and was intrigued by the carving, which I immediately recognized as the mythical underwater panther – Mishebeshu is one of many spellings – of Native American cosmological lore. Saturday, 6 a.m. Backyard brook rattling. accusations that criminals planned their nefarious activities As trade gr… The underwater panther was the lord of the underworld, known to reside in oceans, lakes, whirlpools, deep pools, treacherous rapids and caves. Not men or mammals, fish or frogs, snakes or salamanders, ducks or geese. (see the When and why Canterbury was named may be out of reach as we approach Whately’s 250th birthday celebration next year. posted in Columns, Indians |
The reason I suggest uncertainty is that I know memory doesn’t always serve one well, especially on familiar turf, where one story can easily run into another over time. RIP, fellas. Poring through sources I owned, they were helpful in identifying additional sources to probe. There’s a glaring void in Whately’s North Street/Whately Glen neighborhood. 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. Later that night, curious about the notebook within reach of where I was seated, I opened it to see if the notes should be discarded. The last survivor of four siblings born at the dawning of the 20th century, she came with the purchase of my home after my grandfather’s sudden 1980 death. 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. I had never followed the ridge back into the woods. You know how that goes. We climbed under the fence and walked to the edge of the pond basin in which it stood. posted in Columns, Genealogy, Indians, Local history, South Deerfield |
Book online! Because, yes, I was there 50 years ago for the same towns’ last birthday galas, celebrated in villages where as a kid I played baseball, fished, farmed and foraged … and unapologetically raised hell. Most everything had a spirit – even inanimate objects like the Pocumtuck Range, which local indigenous people believed had once been a troublesome giant beaver bludgeoned to death by the giant culture-hero Hobomock for flaunting rude, uncooperative behavior, in its case, hoarding and greed. The basic layout of an inn consisted of the hall, the kitchen, the stables, a storage area (cellar), the chamber (loo/WC/toilet/poophole), and accommodation for the innkeeper and his family. But I’d wager that the impressive wall mount is still on display somewhere in the valley. Seems to me there was something happening at the old youth-baseball field off Christian Lane, before the days of Herlihy Park. tapster. Cresting the wooden frame defining the crossing was a carved sign sporting a coiled rattlesnake preceding a warning that read “Avril Wood: Don’t Tread on Me.” Apparently, the commune’s name was Avril Wood and the members didn’t enjoy trespassers. Let’s take a closer look at the picture Temple and Crafts painted. When introduced to the Pocumtuck Valley Memorial Association by founder and president George Sheldon at the group’s second annual meeting in 1871, Field stood to introduce himself by highlighting his ancestors’ military acumen. A Mordor Murder Mystery. Imagine that! Canterbury came into existence as a place between places in early Hatfield-Deerfield lore, a perilous no-man’s land where only the brave dared linger, even then on high alert. No need fo do anything except enjoy ourselves. For many visitors who want a glimpse of what it is like to visit a medieval tavern… for offline playback in a dedicated media player. He was proud, more than willing to recreate the total experience of taking a buck for the ages. Still, why not expediate the discovery process? Thankfully, at the last minute, I fact-checked the incident, which was a cumbersome task. That was no Chestnut Hill buck. Other animal names for taverns include The Horse, The Lamb and The Old Bull. They started at a little walnut tree on the Connecticut River bank and continued two miles west to Mill Swamp. Perfect for pondering, allowing your mind to run free. So, it didn’t take long for not only Canterbury but the entire west side of the river to become irrelevant to Judd. A simple coincidence? (Shakespeare parodies* the tendencies of On some mornings, yes, a phone call is part of my routine. Notice how, unlike Sheldon, Pressey is vague in defining the mountainous beaver carcass – a wise move on his part. Then along came Abraham Parker of Groton and Fort No. On one side of the battle line was Nixon’s law-and-order gang, on the other raged the “new left.”. For the majority, this meant a tavern and for a lucky few, early coaching style inns. Log cabins were replaced by farmhouses, most of which have burned to the ground, or were torn down long ago. One never knows where fertile curiosity and mischievous imagination will lead on such an inspiring morning, especially following a freewheeling, freethinking ramble that stimulates introspective thoughts, riffs, and melodies worth capturing and sharing. In those local papers he tested out the narrative of what would become his acclaimed History of Deerfield in the years leading up to its 1895 publication. I reported what the man told me, knowing there was a good chance it was not true. All that’s left is a conspicuous skeleton standing as a temporary gravestone. He knew all the stonewalls, property lines, and corners of his land, not to mention the discontinued roads, cellar holes, and stone-clad wells hidden under forest canopy. Something that gave the panther even more context at this site was the fact that it also stood near a documented Connecticut River ford, or footpath crossing, at adjacent Sheldon’s Rocks. Here today, gone tomorrow. A beaver profile has but three components: a head, a body, and a flat tail. Looming large in the background is the Sugarloaf cathedral, a tall, proud sentry guarding the farmland below. Outlook was alerting me to Peirce’s email. Some alehouses certainly offered more than cakes and ale. Wanting to share images, he took several digital photos with his Canon Point-and-Shoot camera before paddling back to his launching site, which, to his relief, was vacant, the path to his vehicle clear. Though I have not seen it, Field’s tale likely found its way into the Greenfield Gazette and Courier before it made its way into History and Proceedings. How old was this carving? Finished hunting the wetlands bordering his meadow across the road, I spotted him in front of his garage and pulled in to chat. Beavers eat inner bark and twigs, leaves and roots. Daily offer Medieval meals are combined with traditional Latvian cuisine in the tavern’s daily menu. In fact, he wore it on his sleeve. Interesting. rejected the old folk festivals--such as May Day and The tavern is underground and were shown to our reserved spot which had rustic table and benches. There’s no need to mention names. I know the hunter had a Polish surname, one beginning with M and ending in ski. Live and learn, I did. Although the regional preferences didn’t necessarily rule out the possibility that the Montague carving had been executed by an indigenous carver of Connecticut Valley heritage, it did raise warning flags. I call it censorship, unwelcome and unjustified in any fair, freethinking, open and honest classroom. Close inspection of the stone revealed drill holes indicative of modern quarrying. Though the horned, long-tailed image fit the mold, it became clear to me that it was essentially of Central Algonquian iconographic form, especially that of Great Lakes tribes, not our own Eastern Algonquians. Second, such carvings are not typically found on standing stones, but rather on river, lake, and bayside ledge. celebrated with a pot of beer, and as the church increasingly Close up medieval guild sign for a guesthouse and tavern in the historic old city of Chur in Switzerland. She was a gracious hostess to me and Thomas during a two-hour, June 12 visit to her home. The life-expectancy of an American elm is about 300 years, and he thinks it had simply run its course in fertile isolation and died of old age. Sadly, Pocumtuck DNA is scattered far, wide and thin, their language is extinct, and the creation tale of their homeland has faded to a ghost of what it was. I would have preferred a humorous and evasive answer. Selfishness was not tolerated by Native Americans, who valued community sharing and charity. It didn’t stop there. So, obviously bark would have been an important commodity to a tannery, and thus would have been taken in trade by 18th– and 19th-century tanners, saddlers and cordwainers like those at the Sanderson tannery and shoe shop. thanks =] Sheldon, who apparently was not familiar with the landscape tale before Field brought it to light, increased the word-count to 120 and introduced a few new elements. The statute of limitations long ago passed. Reappearing at the mouth of the Deerfield, hugging the East Deerfield shore, after riding the downstream flow – Bingville to the left, East Deerfield right – Peirce looked across and noticed a couple of men standing on the Montague side near where he had put in. Parking there, we’d scout High Ridge to a backdoor descent to the old Boy Scout camp, then hike up to the old orchard on Dry Hill’s gentle north slope. Gramly’s most authenticating observation was the underwater panther’s association with water vortexes, better known in laymen’s terms as whirlpools. What he did was hire a pilot friend from Northampton to enhance the Saturday-night fireworks scheduled to be launched from Mt. I remove them on my side, wearing gloves to uproot them. At this point, we can only try to accurately re-create an extinct oral tale and the lessons its landscape carcass display. Whately was his hometown. I contacted Lattrell when lingering questions about the tree, its cause of death and age kept surfacing during telephone conversations. Which brings us to my most recent genealogical adventure – one sparked by the eBay purchase of a 19th-century leather wallet made by relatives and their South Deerfield neighbors at the old Arms Manufacturing Co. I’m not sure where this dynamic pursuit will lead me, but it’s already brought me back to my Sanderson family’s Whately tannery and leather-working business, as well as the later leather-working industry founded and managed by my branch of the Arms family. For that, Connecticut Valley researchers are sincerely grateful. We can now only rely on scholarly interpretation and literary intervention, which is fun and captivating indeed, but not the real deal. Here today, gone tomorrow, Rudolphus Sanderson was my third great-granduncle. But I finally tracked it down and avoided disseminating inaccurate information in black and white. (see below) as well as games, both outdoor and indoor, some Upon closer inspection, I found the owner’s name written on the inner panel. It was a Dry Hill-High Ridge racker, and an extraordinary one at that. His humble manner, dignity, and humility bespoke his rural Yankee pedigree. in town, possibly as crude as the house where the owner was Those four farms likely comprised all of Canterbury before Whately was established in 1771. To be perfectly honest, I had forgotten those notes existed. So, there you have it. “Where did you come up with that petroglyph?”, “A kayaker found it on the Connecticut River.”, “Interesting. 3. Just downstream, clinging to the Connecticut’s East Deerfield shoreline, lies exposed, red-sandstone bedrock known historically as Sheldon’s Rocks. He was insensible and had a bad cut on his chin. He was a devout Christian, and very like a man who subscribed to the late 19th century, racist sentiment opining that “the only good Indian was a dead Indian.” So, he wasn’t recording the indigenous tale he heard in childhood out of cultural respect. Library. The kid wanted to penetrate the patch of prickly canes to pick the ripe interior berries, but was discouraged not only by thorns but also pesky nettles, which in childhood I knew as seven-minute itch. Homicide by horse? Yup, time to return to his riverside campsite off Meadow Road in Montague. All that’s left of that family compound today is a decaying old leather and shoe shop that’ll likely soon be reduced to a pile of rubble. 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. Now, bear with me. In summation, Lattrell doesn’t believe the giant elm fell victim to a pathogen or poison. The impetus for what has become my a 30-year genealogical chase was a 19th-century King James Bible stored atop miscellaneous papers in a large, covered Tupperware box. Over time, the kid undoubtedly would have figured out my little lesson on his own. He descended from a founding family of Hatfield and had grown up a mile or so away on the Straits. So, go figure. Having finished the High Ridge leg of the mission, we crossed Henhawk, passed my Jeep, and were following a stonewall up Dry Hill when I stumbled on what felt like a vine or maybe a strand of old metal fence buried in fresh leaf litter. there were alehouses, where "cakes and ale*" were served. Medieval people eat and drink. for offline playback in a dedicated media player. Bruchac’s first publication of the Sugarloaf tale was in the essay “Earthshapers and Placemakers: Algonkian Indian Stories and the Landscape,” which appeared in the 2005 compilation Indigenous Archaeologies: Decolonizing Theory and Practice. The tavern pictured here is catering for the wealthy, Well, that all changed quickly with my reaction to Kent State. I was on a first-name basis with many station attendants stretching from Worcester to Pittsfield. I told him I liked his name, that my late son Gary wrote a song named Gilead. My best guess would be Big Stosh, an old baseball teammate and friend since grammar school. Well, it just so happens that Mr. Field is the man who brought to light the Native American Great Beaver Tale explaining the origin of Deerfield’s Pocumtuck Range. Sugarloaf. See more ideas about Tavern, Medieval, Interior. Medieval Tavern Dinner in Prague MENU 2 (poultry). Ask JiriRysavy about Stredoveka krcma Detenice. I remember Scott’s mother, bank-secretary May, sitting at the Frontier Pharmacy restaurant counter daily when I was a kid touring the streets of South Deerfield in the Sixties. Perhaps the acreage of this place grew over time as houses and outbuildings were added, trees and brush were cleared, and swamps were drained to create fertile farmsteads. How better than by introduction to the indigenous tales of the land? “Fair enough?”. The backyard brook was trickling its soothing summer song as I introduced myself and learned his name. He doesn’t say why. “Yes,” he wrote. You’d think his family’s Deerfield misfortunes would have been front and center around PVMA gatherings. He’s now part of that land. Well, bear with me. But to the beer or barrel, A man dressed as a courtier or officer 17-18 age in tavern. Sorry, Kid. Adult intervention doesn’t detract from learning, just speeds the process with a nudge forward. The longer versions would have been great theater, the full Monty, so to speak, introducing song and dance, the heartbeat of drums and chants, flashy costume and hushed drama – suspense that could strike fear or rapture into an entranced gathering. That was before a post-World War II Asian invader known as Dutch Elm Disease – a fungal pathogen transmitted by the elm bark beetle – arrived to push our elms to the brink of extinction. If you know the date, you’re OK. Heath forester Bill Lattrell, a man of aristocratic Native American roots, understands such belief systems. Maybe you’d have some ideas about it. So, I had to rule her out before spending another second trying to arrange a field trip. This one motivated me back to Old Deerfield, where I re-examined my ancestor’s account book. That was the salient question – one that only a field trip could reconcile. Though valuable, fertile, and desirable, the disputed strip of Hatfield land below Sugarloaf remained unsettled for 77 years after purchase and 53 years after the town line was officially marked.