The art of making maple sugar, was taught to the immigrants by the Natives, more than four centuries ago. In the early 1600's the Jesuit Relations describe the event: "a certain liquor that runs from the trees toward the end of Winter, and which is known as 'Maple Water' ..."When they (the Indians) are pressed by famine they eat the shavings or bark of a certain tree, which they call Micktan, which they split in the Spring to get from it a juice, sweet as honey or as sugar. I have been told this by several, but they do not enjoy much of it, so scanty is the flow." This of course describes the actual sap.
Further on in the Relations: "There is no lack of sugar in these forests. In the Spring the maple trees contain a fluid somewhat resembling that which the canes of the islands contain. The women busy themselves in receiving it into vessels of bark when it trickles from these trees; they boil it, and obtain from it a fairly good sugar. The first which is obtained is always the best."
The process of sugar-making at that time was rather crude. The Native would first gash the tree in a slanting direction, and then insert a wooden chip to act as a spout, catching the sap as it trickled out. It would then be boiled by dropping hot-rocks into the vessel and continually boiled down by replacing the rocks as they cooled. The sugar would be eaten on it's own, especially when a little pick-me-up was needed.
An entry in Mrs. Simcoe's Diary for April 3, 1798, states: "Some Indians brought maple sugar to sell in birch bark baskets. I gave them three dollars for 30 pounds." It's manufature was done by the women and they even made the fancy little baskets in which they were sold.
Thomas Need 1835
"The most experienced among them is there placed to regulate the heat, which ought to be tolerably equal, and round her the rest of the party are busied in watching the process of boiling, and arranging the contents of the kettles; and finally, when by steady boiling the consistency of sugar is obtained, in delivering it over to others whose business it is to keep stirring the boiling mass as it gradually cools and settles. ...There were several women and girls busily employed, while their lords' and masters, as usual, were idling about or carelessly looking on. It is, however, but fair to state, that, as they do not assist in the labour, so neither do they share in the profits, which are sometimes considerable, and may always be looked upon as pretty pin-money for the ladies of the bush. ...
"After the season was over, the party brought me a present of ten or twelve pounds of excellent sugar in return for the loan of my kettles."
A central location was chosen where an ox-sled could be easily brought in, and a hollowed-out half-log, served as a trough, which could usually hold up to 100 buckets of sap. A hole was made in the tree with an auger, into which a round, wooden spout, known as a tap, spile or spigot, was inserted. An axe could make a wider gash and produce a better flow, but this was hard on the trees so not usually done.
From there it was poured into a copper boiler and clarified with milk and eggs. Six eggs beaten with about a quart of syrup and poured into the sugar-boiler would clarify fifty pounds of sugar. After the mixture was well stirred the boiler was hung on a crane over a slow fire, and when the liquid began to simmer, the beaten eggs and the impurities would rise to the surface.
Susanna Moodie
And the sap begins to rise,
And the biting breath of the frozen blast
Yields to the Spring's soft sighs,
Then away to the wood,
For the maple, good,
Shall unlock its honied store;
And boys and girls,
With their sunny curls,
Bring their vessels brimming o'er
With the luscious flood
Of the brave tree's blood,
Into cauldrons deep to pour.
The blaze from the sugar-bush gleams red;
Far down in the forest dark,
A ruddy glow on the tree is shed,
That lights up the rugged bark;
And with merry shout,
The busy rout
Watch the sap as it bubbles high;
And they talk of the cheer
Of the coming year,
And the jest and the song pass by;
And brave tales of old
Round the fire are told,
That kindle youth's beaming eye.
