I recently got back from a wonderful month in Maine. My husband and I rented a house right on a lake, and we spent a good portion of our time in the water. We kayaked, and my husband learned to paddle board, which turned into great fun when the grandkids discovered they could use their Popa’s board as a diving platform.
But we did other things, as well, including touring a charming, small railroadmuseum, running in two local races (a 4th of July 10K sponsored by L.L. Bean in Freeport, and a 5 miler that was part of the Yarmouth Clam Festival), visiting some beautiful beaches, touring the site where Poland Springs water comes from, eating a lot of good seafood, and hiking on several trails.
It was on one of those hikes that I learned some interesting bits
of historical trivia that just might show up in one of my books someday.
My first history lesson came from a sign that was very close to the beginning of the trail.
The sign explained that in New England, old-growth white
pines grew very tall and straight. Some were over 200 feet tall. This made them
ideal single-piece masts for massive sailing ships. During Colonial times, British
officials marked the largest and best of these trees with three hatchet marks, creating
a symbol known as “The King’s Broad Arrow.”
Under the King’s Broad Arrow policy, those trees, which were
24 inches or wider in diameter, were reserved for use by the crown.
In America, the King’s Broad Arrow policy led to one of the first acts of forceful, coordinated resistance against British rule in New England. The Pine Tree Riot was an armed insurrection in Weare, New Hampshire in 1772, a full year before the Boston Tea Party. Governor John Wentworth sent had sent British colonial officers to mill towns to look for trees that had been cut down even though they bore the king’s mark. Most mill owners paid the fines levied against them, but one, Ebenezer Mudgett, refused . He rallied a group of local townspeople, who beat the officers with switches, cut off their horses' manes and tails, and forced the humiliated men to ride out of town through a gauntlet of jeering residents. The rioters were eventually arrested but a sympathetic local judge fined them only one shilling each. The riot showed the colonists’ willingness to use violence against British authorities in order to protect their economic freedom.
I got a second jolt of history when we came across another
sign about 3/4 of the way through our hike. This sign stood next to one of the
many stone walls that ran through the woods. It explained that this wall
once marked the edge of a field, and that a person could tell what kind of
field by looking at the size of the stones within the walls. Pastures were delineated
by large stones. The walls around crop land had smaller stones, picked from the
earth so that plows wouldn’t buck on them. Every year, frost heaves would bring
new stones to the surface, and these stones were added to the walls.
As Maine became more populated, the forests were leveled to
build houses, cook food, and warm hearths. By the end of the 1700s, most of the
massive old-growth mast trees along the southern Maine coast were gone, along
with most other trees. In 1880, when Maine’s agricultural economy reached its
peak, 64,309 farms covered over 6.5 million acres. Trees were relegated to wood
lots and the area around farm houses. But as the nation grew, its agricultural
centers moved west. By 1940, there were only 39,000 farms left in Maine, and trees
were growing in the abandoned fields. Today, nearly 90% of Maine’s land has
reverted to forest.
Of course, none of the trees in Maine bear the King's Arrow any more. But its forests are veined with the crumbling remnants of stone walls. I know I will never be able to pass one of these walls again without assessing the size of its stones and determining whether the field it once enclosed held crops or pasture, and I will always wonder about the people who built those walls. Someday, I might be able to tell their story.































