Tapping the Sugarbush: A Morning in the Taps

Long before the evaporator lights, the season begins on foot. On a cold, bright morning in the hills above Moretown, a crew moves through the sugarbush in bright coats and taller boots, drilling a shallow hole in each maple and setting a spile with two soft taps of a mallet.

It is quiet, methodical work. A healthy tree might carry a tap or two without strain, and good sugarmakers leave the oldest and smallest maples alone. The goal is a harvest the forest can give year after year — sap today, and shade for the grandchildren.

By midmorning the first drops appear, clear as water and only faintly sweet. Lines of tubing thread downhill toward the collection tank, but plenty of families still hang the old metal buckets, if only because the sound of sap ticking into tin is part of what makes late winter bearable. The woods are still locked in snow, yet under the bark, spring has already made up its mind.