“Maple syrup is the nectar of the gods.”

That’s how Harry A. Packard described the golden bounty of Maine woodlots in March of 1954 when he wrote about “sugaring off” in the Lewiston Evening Journal Magazine Section. He recalled earlier times, when farmers often boiled down sap to earn some extra money for their tax bills.

Packard took a look at the economics of maple syrup, and his observations show that many farm families, including those in the Androscoggin River Valley, put in some long and hard hours for relatively little return. There was a lot of detail in Packard’s article about the local maple syrup business, which revealed just how arduous the process could be.

In the 1880s, syrup sold for 60 cents to 75 cents per gallon can. By early 1913, prices were $2 to $2.50 per gallon, and it was $6 per gallon in 1954.
Did that mean a lot more profit? Not from Packard’s viewpoint. He explained how expenses had also increased.

“In the early days, the wood for evaporating was picked up around the sugar orchard, or some obliging neighbor cut it for $1.50 per cord,” he said. “Today the farmer is paying $6 a cord to have it cut and $3 more to have it yarded.” He said an “ordinary run” burns up some five cords of good wood.

Packard included several tips for sugar making.

“Good maple syrup can only be made from ice-cold sap,” he said. “One farmer tells me he always leaves the ice in the buckets when he gathers sap early in the day.”

He also speaks of a farmer who uses sweet cream to keep his boiling sap from bubbling over the sides of the evaporator. He said another syrup maker kept a piece of pork on a string suspended over the boiling pan, and dipping the pork into the hot sap kept the boil over to a minimum.

My father, Walter Sargent, clearly recognized the often-overlooked reward that came from maple syrup production. In “Homespun,” one of his books of poetry, he included a piece he called “Syrupin’.”

It relates in free-verse and Maine dialect a short conversation between a farmer and his wife in which he says, “There’s more to syrupin’ than money, Abbie.”

Our old Echo Farm on Auburn’s North River Road was the place he wrote about. I remember several decades ago when steam from the evaporating sap and smoke from a wood fire rolled from the eaves of a small garage, where he boiled down many gallons of sweet syrup.

“Bet I’ve tramped a hundred miles a-luggin’ sap and luggin’ wood,” he wrote.

Before my father began producing maple syrup on a moderate scale in the garage, the sweet steam of the boiling sap filled my grandmother’s kitchen at Echo Farm. She put as many kettles and pans on the old wood-burning Queen Atlantic stove as it would hold, with a yield each spring of a few jars of syrup that lasted most of the year.

For my father, the goal of this springtime ritual was mostly about sociability.
“How about tapping your trees on shares?” he would suggest to neighbors.

His poem concluded:

“Right, Abbie, time-wise we won’t make expenses, but when a neighbor gets his share of smackin’ gold, his face’ll be all aglow with pleasure.
Now, that’s a profit you can see, Abbie, and it’s all tax free.”

Your chance to experience a bit of the old-time and the modern experiences of maple sugaring is coming up Sunday, March 24. That’s the date of the annual Maine Maple Sunday sponsored by the Maine Maple Producers Association. Open house will be held at many sugaring operations throughout Central Maine.

Dave Sargent is a freelance writer and a native of Auburn. He can be reached by emailing [email protected].