They work in the long shadow of history; horses have gathered sap from this sugarbush near Croghan for 170 years. Dick and Doc, an Amish-raised team of Belgians, work along trails worn by countless hooves and five generations of the Yancey family.
“The horses do less damage to the woods than a tractor,” says Haskell Yancey, who took over Yancey’s Sugarbush from his uncles and is in his 31st season. The horses belong to his son, Tim, 28, who is steward of the evaporator this day, minding the transformation of clear, thin sap into amber syrup.
In a good year, the business will produce 800 gallons of table-grade syrup, and the horses are at its heart. Dick and Doc know their job. They know to stand and wait while the men gather the sap, and they know to walk forward when called to the next batch of buckets. They know to stay on the road. They know they are trusted.
“You can talk to a horse,” Haskell says. “You talk at a tractor–and usually if you’re talking at a tractor, it’s not good.”
This horsepower lacks only a three-speed transmission. A team of horses has one speed–extremely slow–and so the woods have been sculpted around them. The sugar house is in the middle of the 5,500 trees the Yanceys tap, placed there deliberately to minimize the distance the team travels each day. It’s the one advantage a tractor has over the pair, but the pace has its own reward.
“It’s really nice being in the woods with them,” Tim Yancey says. “The horses are quiet. You’re not having to listen to an engine running all the time.”
Nor do tractors enjoy being petted, hanging out with the dogs or visiting with the families who arrive steadily during sugar season. Dick is all business “for the most part,” Tim says, but Doc “is a total ham. He likes his attention, and he’s a little more of a brat.”
The tanker is empty and the horses ease gingerly down the bridge, hang a right and head back to the barn for lunch. Soon now, the days will lengthen and turn warm, the taps will come out of the trees and Dick and Doc will settle in for the equine equivalent of spring break. Extended spring break.
What do they do in the off season? Haskell shrugs and smiles.
“Not much.”
The taps have been in the trees for weeks. It’s early March, deep in sugar season, that short North Country sprint between tundra and mud, when sap rises in the maples, drips into old metal buckets or high-tech miles of plastic tubing, and is alchemized by fire into syrup.
The day begins early for the veterans of these woods. A little past noon, and a jingle of harness signals Dick and Doc are back from morning rounds, hauling a red metal tanker filled with sap. They pause at the bridge, a short steep hill that leads to the peak of the sugar house. From here, gravity will feed the sap into holding tanks.
The horses strain for a moment against the harness, then find their footing on the snow-slicked hill. A cloud of thick maple steam, sweet with burning wood and boiling syrup, pours from the window. For a moment they are ghostly, no more than a faint outline, an echo of horse in the shroud of stream.The Sweet Life
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At Yancey’s Sugarbush, there’s only one kind of horsepower allowed: the kind with four hooves