The Rural Voice, 2001-03, Page 24The sweet history of
maple syrup is as
much about what
hasn't changed as it is
about what has. And some
of the very maple trees in
your bush, easily living
well over 200 years under
good conditions, might
have witnessed eight
generations or more of
that history.
Imagine cutting down
an old maple tree near the
end of its life for
firewood, fondly
remembering how you
tapped it for its sweet sap,
and then discovering the
tap marks deep inside
(like those shown in photo
on page 24) that were left
by your grandfather a
hundred years earlier.
That happened to Albert
Martin curator of the
Maple Syrup Museum of
Ontario located in St.
Jacobs, Ontario.
While Mr. Martin is
retired from farming, he
hasn't retired from making
syrup — and he'll always
want to tell about it. When
asked what changes he has
seen over the years, he can
describes the improve-
ments in evaporating
equipment, the official
grading system introduced
in the 1960s, and the
changes in marketing of
the maple products. But
Martin, and most any
long-time tapper, quickly
comes back to what hasn't
changed: "You still have
to walk the bush and you
still have to boil it." That
was the case before the
first European settlers
learned the trade from
Native Americans over
300 years ago; that was
the case for the next 200
years when maple sugar
was the standard
sweetener on every North
American table (it wasn't
until 1875 that cane sugar
first became available);
and that is still the case
20 THE RURAL VOICE
THERE'S A LOT
OF MEMORIES
IN THOSE WOODS
Maple Syrup Museum tells the stories of
the maple syrup industry in Ontario
Story and photos by Larry Drew
Albert Martin points to a spile crafted from a clothespin,
and compares it to his father's "store-bought" design
that he holds.
through to today with 80
per cent of maple syrup
still sold at the farm gate
to supplement the incomes
of farm families.
Maple syrup bonds
many generations. Many
old-timers, farm -kids -
forever, seem to be able to
pull out of safekeeping, a
spile or two that their
parents or grandparents
used — myself included.
Even the trees have held
onto a few relics over the
years. In some cases the
spiles themselves have
been found encased deep
inside the trees, still sitting
in the tap holes made
many years before.
So varied are the spiles,
spigits or spouts used over
the years that they make
for good collecting. Like
stamps they all have the
same purpose. But there is
seemingly no end to the
variation in their design.
Take for example, the
ingenuity of the fellow
who drilled a hole
lengthwise through some
old clothespins (see photo)
and fashioned wire hooks
from which to hang his
sap buckets. While early
pioneers had little
difficulty carving their
own spiles, the
industrialists were quick
to re -invent the "mouse
trap". The turn of the
century cast iron spiles
have so mdny small
variations that I'mn sure it
kept many a professional
patent lawyer employed
— and gave the salesman
a new pitch.
From steel, evolved the
less expensive pressed -tin
and aluminum spites.
Martin recalls a salesman
telling him that aluminum
"gets more sap than steel"
— but he found they bent
too readily when
hammered into the tap
holes. So then came the
cast aluminum with a
reinforced "head" for the
tappers to hammer - that
is, just as easily as one
could hammer the turn of
the century version.
One can also find a
fascinating range of
design with most any
maple syrup equipment —
but again with the same
basic functions. Take for
example the many ways to
make a hole — patent
lawyers must have loved
it. The 1895 Montgomery
Ward catalogue offers a
range of hand -twisted
carpenter's augers and
breast drills, to your
choice of no less than 16
patented designs of geared