Friday, January 25, 2019

Visiting Duxbury’s Whiton Woods


Ask anyone familiar with the South Shore what our most common tree is and they will answer “pine,” . . . or if they know a little bit about botany, perhaps “white pine.” And it’s true. White pine is, by far, the predominant tree in our upland forests. 

What’s interesting to me is that when the European colonists first arrived here in the 1600s, white pine was considerably less common. Instead, on the uplands, there were oak trees in three varieties – black, red and white. There was an abundance of cherry, chestnut and hickory, plus some hemlock. And yes, there was white pine, but it was scattered here and there -- a very different landscape from what we have today.

A great number of trees were felled in the development of the colonies. Lots more went down to supply the shipbuilding industry. But eventually the woods grew back. While pre-colonial forests were comprised of a variety of species in different stages of life, secondary growth was often dominated by fast-growing, sun-loving types. The result is that now we have lots of white pine. And because the trees that repopulated any given cleared field all sprouted at the same time, they are all the same age. The diversity that was present in old growth forests is gone.


I recently took a walk at Whiton Woods, a 32-acre conservation property located on Temple Street in Duxbury, where there is an abundance of white pine. While there is oak too, and even some holly, pine is the dominant feature. Because of a brutal storm last March, many of these pines are now either snapped in half or lying flat on the forest floor. That alone made the walk worthwhile. It’s fascinating to see the impact a storm can have on a woodland.


 Lately I’ve become fascinated with the history of the landscape. What did it look like 100, 200, 400 years ago? Colonists in Duxbury settled first along the shoreline, beginning in 1627 when the original land grants were established. This began at the mouth of the Jones River, proceeding north around Kingston Bay and Standish Shores, but also inland up Island Creek. A freeman typically was given 20 acres, but if he was married, he received 20 more, plus an additional 20 for each family member. Within a short amount of time, much of Duxbury’s southern shoreline, extending inland approximately to today’s Route 3A, was parceled out. The next set of grants were distributed in a similar fashion, but farther inland.

Each family was expected to sustain itself. Nearly all the food – whether for humans or for livestock -- was grown at home. Clothing, furniture and farm equipment were home-made too, although it was common for neighbors to share their skills. Everyone had a right of way to the shore; everyone had a right to hunt or fish. Duxbury’s Common Lands, located inland of today’s Route 3A and including much of Pembroke (which became its own town in 1712), were open to all, as wood lots.


 Whiton Woods is located in North Duxbury, a village sometimes known as the Crooked Lane neighborhood, because of the winding road that once connected each of the homes there. Settlers – often the sons and grandsons of Duxbury’s original grantees – began to arrive in 1685. Samuel Delano received an early land grant at Temple Hill, between Enterprise and Temple Streets. Isaac Simmons built a home farther north on Temple, just before Laurel Street, and Joseph Peterson’s farm was even farther north.

Additional settlers arrived in North Duxbury around 1700, with a number of 30-acre grants at the intersections of Lincoln, Franklin and Temple Streets. But even though well-established paths led to other parts of Duxbury, settlers in this area tended to be more connected to Marshfield. They attended church there, and also did their milling, and patronized Marshfield’s stores. North Duxbury once petitioned the General Court to be annexed to Marshfield, but the petition failed. 


 North Duxbury was largely a farming community. While in other parts of town, dams were constructed on brooks to power mills and factories, the village’s primary waterway, Harlow Brook, remained a quiet stream flowing west through lowlands and eventually into the South River. Some of those swamps and shallow ponds produced bog iron ore, which could be raked up and forged into functional metal.


 There is no official trail map for Whiton Woods, so visiting this property requires a bit of guesswork. However the trails are well-established, and they are blazed either with paint or with plastic markers. 


The question is, how do you know when you’ve crossed onto private property? 

Probably a boundary line!

 During my visit, I tracked my progress on a fitness app. Even though I stayed on marked trails, I discovered, upon consulting the resulting map, that I’d inadvertently gone off course several times. Some private lands are marked, and one should respect those boundaries; otherwise, a simple guideline might be just to avoid anything that looks like a cranberry bog or a golf course. 



Along the way, there is plenty to see -- old stone walls, bubbling streams, at least one wooden footbridge, large outcroppings of rocks, swampy lowlands, even a vernal pool or two. 


A short loop walk around the blue trail might take 20 minutes. One could easily spend an hour investigating various spur trails. Parking is available on Temple Street, and the trailhead is marked with a wooden Duxbury Conservation sign.



Sources:
• Settlement and Growth of Duxbury 1628-1870 by Dorothy Wentworth.
• Changes in the Land by William Cronon

by Kezia Bacon
January 2019

Kezia Bacon's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to protecting our waters. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org. To browse 20 years of nature columns, visit http://keziabaconbernstein.blogspot.com

Monday, December 17, 2018

The Chesapeake, The Shannon, and the North River Boys Who Got Between Them

The HMS Shannon.

On June 18, 1812, US President James Madison declared war against the United Kingdom. Trade conflicts had heated up, due to the Napoleonic Wars and the UK’s attempt to block the US from trading with France. Impressment of Americans into the British Navy was also a serious concern. “Press gangs” would search American ships and seaport taverns to find men who were unable to prove their citizenship. From 1803 to 1812, such schemes forced or coerced about 10,000 men into the British Navy.

The first major naval battle of the war took place on August 9, 1812, when the USS Constitution defeated the British ship HMS Guerrierre off the coast of Nova Scotia. The Constitution earned its nickname “Old Ironsides” that day -- cannonballs fired at it seemed to bounce away without causing damage.

In the early days of the war, Britain had focused its martial efforts in places other than Massachusetts, perhaps hoping that ambivalent New Englanders would eventually throw their support its way. By the spring of 1813, things had changed. The British established a blockade along the Massachusetts shoreline, and threatened to destroy coastal towns. Many communities were attacked. On Cape Cod, some towns paid extortion fees to avoid invasion.

On June 1, 1813, the British blockade was very much in place off the coast of the South Shore. Meanwhile a more personal marine enterprise was on the minds of three local boys -- Perez Hatch and Thomas Mitchell of Marshfield’s “Two Mile,” and Thomas Stetson, from across the river in present-day Norwell. With the help of an elder Hatch, the three boys, ages 12-14, had constructed a sturdy boat. Employing a team of oxen, they hauled the vessel to the water’s edge, and launched it on the North River.

They had planned an all-day excursion, intending to fish until their boat was full. After rowing several miles downstream to the mouth of the river – remember, the mouth back then was at the southernend of Humarock– they continued up the coast to Scituate.

A heavy fog set in as they arrived at a favorite spot. They proceeded to fish for cod, and hours later when their boat was full, they prepared to turn toward home. It was then that the fog began to lift. Imagine the boys’ astonishment when they observed the British HMS Shannon only a few hundred yards away!

This was frightening to behold. If the boys were spotted, they might be subject to impressment, as had been the case for their neighbor Hatch Oakman and other local fishermen. Some not much older than them had been forced to serve in the British Navy.

They rowed away quickly, hoping not to be noticed, and continued even when they heard someone bellow “Heave to!” Escape remained their priority until a shot rang out over their heads. Terrified, they decided it would be best to pull up alongside the Shannon. Beckoned aboard, they presented themselves to Captain Brock, and were relieved when he received them kindly, asking them questions about their families and what they were carrying in their boat.

When the boys responded, “Fish,” Brock ordered that it be brought up and laid on the deck. Brock offered to pay the boys for their catch. They demurred, insisting that he take it for nothing. But Brock handed each boy a shilling. 

Before departing, the teenagers warned the Brock that Captain Lawrence and the USS Chesapeake would be arriving soon from Boston. The British captain knew this already. He had invited Lawrence, by letter, to battle that day. Soon after, they spotted a ship coming down the coast. As the men on the Shannon prepared to fight, Brock advised the boys to clear out. They did, and from a distance they witnessed the battle between the two ships.

The Chesapeake and its inexperienced crew were no match for the better-equipped Shannon. Eighty men were killed in the battle, and 252 wounded. The British captured the Chesapeake and piloted it to Halifax, Nova Scotia, imprisoning all on board.

The war continued for another year and a half, spreading north to Canada, west to the Great Lakes, and south to Louisiana. There were significant victories on both sides, and significant losses. In the end, frustrated by the prolonged disruption of trade and increased taxation, both nations wanted out. The war officially ended in stalemate, with no boundaries changed, on February 17, 1815.

Whathadchanged was how Americans obtained everyday goods. An industrial revolution had begun. The long-term blockade turned the nation away from sea trade to more home-grown sources. There were already mills to cut timber and grind grain, but after the War of 1812, domestic milling and manufacturing grew exponentially. Pretty much every stream with sufficient power became home to a mill and a dam.

Well before the war, Perez Hatch’s family had established a grist mill in Marshfield on Two Mile Brook, a tributary to the North River. They would soon build three other mills on the same stream – saw, satinet/coffin and boxboard. There were similar efforts all over the South Shore. Nails and tacks were forged. Carding and fulling mills processed fiber into cloth. Wood was sliced into shingles and boxboard. Agriculture had already transformed the local landscape from forest to field. Now rivers and streams would change as well, with dams creating ponds, altering the course of the water’s flow, and preventing native fish like river herring from migrating up and downstream. But that’s a topic for another day.

by Kezia Bacon
December 2018

Kezia Bacon's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to protecting our waters. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org. To browse 20 years of nature columns, visit http://keziabaconbernstein.blogspot.com