Dangerous Journey

Rescuing a Lady Sap begins to move in the trees when the nights are still below freezing but the days get above 50 degrees. Several weeks ago when the temperature was exactly right, Pa went out to the grove of maples to tap the trees and we went with him. Choosing only those trees that were ten inches in diameter or bigger, he moved from one maple to the next, drilling holes in sound wood about two inches deep and anywhere from two to four feet above the ground. We would stick our fingers in the hole to see if there was any sap. Pa would shout, “Fingers out of the way!” The sap tasted watery and had little bits of wood from the drilling in it. As soon as he made each hole, he wanted to insert a collection spout and tap it into the tree. He placed as many as three taps in some of the bigger trees. We followed him lugging buckets that made a clanging noise and hung buckets under the spouts. Sarah covered the buckets to keep out rainwater, insects and loose bits of dirt and bark falling from the trees. When the buckets were full, we started gathering them and dumped the thin sap into big copper kettles. The sap simmers a long time before it begins to thicken as the water evaporates. The heat from the kettles is awful. All of our kettles were protected under a makeshift roof. I like the sweet smell all around as the sap boils down. The sweet smell stays in our hair and clothes. It takes a lot of sap, about thirty-five to forty-five gallons, to make one gallon of maple syrup. We have kept the fires burning night and day, and someone watched them all the time. Making maple syrup was my favorite chore. “Ready or not, here I come!” Sarah yelled. She had forgotten that she was thirteen years old as she played hide and seek with us younger children. She lost her shyness and as she ran and waved her arms over her head, her brown pigtails flew out behind her and her apron blew up in her face. We were in among the maple trees. The low-growing shrubbery gave excellent cover for hiding. We were supposed to be gathering the drain buckets from the maple trees and carrying them to the boiling kettle, but the cool air of early spring called out to us to play. I heard Sarah calling “ready or not” as I ducked behind a little sumac bush close to the trail coming from the house. “I see you,” Sarah called as she spied Cyrus and ran back to the maple tree to tag him out. “Not fair!” Cyrus cried, his face red. “You were peeking. I saw you.” I looked over my shoulder and saw Ma walking up the path from the house. I jumped out of my hiding place and called in a loud whisper, “Quick, here comes Ma!” Everyone immediately ran out of hiding. When Ma got to the pots of boiling sap, three of us were busily checking the buckets under the taps. Sarah was stirring the pot. “Ma, do you feel well enough to be out?” I was still worried about her, how white she was – and so thin. “I’m fine, Lucy. I just had to get out of the house and get some fresh air. Something about early spring starts my yearning for the outdoors. But I do tire easily, so I’ll just plunk down here for a minute and catch my breath. Sarah, I’m proud of you for doing the stirring and watching the fire under the kettle. Generally an older girl does that. We have to keep a close eye on that heat and skim off any crusty scum. You young’uns have been so busy. Why don’t you take a rest too?” We looked at each other guiltily and went to sit beside her. Ma pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders and smiled, “Have you ever heard the story the Indians tell about maple syrup?” We were a little at a loss. Ma never took time off in a busy morning and certainly not to tell stories. That was really unusual, but we all loved storytelling and quickly drew closer. “Well,” she continued, “there are many versions, so I’ll tell you my favorite. Once upon a time, there was a young chief named Glooskap.” “Glooskap?” We all shrieked with delight. “Really was that his name?” Mother nodded. “Yes. He had magic powers. He could fly like an eagle high above the earth. Now, in the beginning, maple trees were full up with maple syrup, not sap. All the Indians would just lie around a tap hole and drink syrup. Even the dogs and cats would find a place to lap it up. Glooskap was a worker, a good worker. When he saw everyone doing nothing, he thought: This will never do. Who will build fires at night to keep us warm? Or get skins for cloths? Or tend our horses? So he made a big bowl out of bark, flew to a nearby river, filled the bark bowl with water and flew back, dumping the water on the trees. It so diluted the syrup that it became sap. He ordered, ‘You must boil the sap to get syrup. The sap will only run in the early spring, so you had best be quick!’” “No wonder he was called Glooskap. That was a pretty stupid thing to do. I think the Indians should have shot him!” Cyrus stood up. Mother smiled. “Well, however it happened, we have to boil sap so you’d best be getting back to it.”