Three wise-looking, majestic maple trees grace our front
yard. Last February, my husband came home unexpectedly with tap kits; that
evening he affixed them to the trees and, complete neophytes, we waited for the
magic to happen.
Unsurprisingly, it didn’t. We had no idea what climactic
conditions were necessary for obtaining good maple sugar, how often to harvest
it, or even what to do when we did. That spring, I happened to visit an
acquaintance’s maple sugaring operation, which spanned thousands of acres in
Vermont’s Green Mountains and consisted of several million sugar taps. He had
them connected to a rubber piping system, all leading down to a sugar shack of
his own construction which held several thousand-gallon tanks churning and
boiling.
I may have been just a tad bit intimidated. This looked
difficult, to say the least.
By the time I took the buckets off my own trees that year, I
had a few inches’ vaguely sticky mass of yuck at the bottom in which a few
flies and bees had been fossilized. Sugaring fail.
This year I did my research. Turns out, there is no exact
science to maple sugaring; good harvesters seem to divine it in almost a
shaman-ish sort of way. I mentioned in an earlier post that my lilac was
budding up; the same phenomenon in your maple is a good sign that the sap is
rising.
Before tapping, the tree needs to
be above freezing—that is, you need four days or so of 40 degree weather. A
sugarer I spoke with actually waits for small buds to form on the branches to
prove the tree is, again, alive.
As I understand it, during winter, the tree’s cells store its food
source in a starch form; when the tree gets its springtime cues it liquidates
that food into sugar form as a growth jumpstart. Once temperatures are higher
(consistently above 45 degrees) the tree converts that food source back into
starch for slower consumption. The takeaway from this? Get it while the getting
is good. Once you recognize the necessary signs and weather conditions for your
trees, you should tap immediately and then enjoy 4-6 weeks of production in a
normal year.
This, however, doesn’t seem to be a
normal year. After hearing a story
on North Country Public Radio (my lifeline: see the article on Early Adirondack Sugarers ) on early tapping going on in the
Adirondacks due to elevated yearly temperatures, I decided to just bite the
bullet and tap my trees.
It is surprisingly easy. I had a
hammer, an electric drill gun, a 7/16 drill bit, and the standard maple sugar
kit from the hardware store. I chose a spot at my level (apparently vertical
level doesn’t matter, but you should drill at least six inches away from a
previous drill site) and drilled at about a 60 degree angle upward into the
tree (to catch downward sap flow) as far as I could, moving the drill in a
circular motion to enlarge the hole enough to fit the tap. I withdrew the drill
and waited a minute; sure enough, a clear, thick sap came flowing out of the
hole. I stuck the tap in as far as I could, then used a hammer to knock it in
as far as it could go. I used some spare PlayDoh (all I had was orange) to
putty around the tap so that sap couldn’t escape (I’m sure other more durable
materials would work for this). I then attached the bucket and waited for that
sweet, satisfying drip… drip… drip… on the bucket floor. Mission accomplished.
Apparently, one must treat the raw
syrup as a dairy product: don’t leave it out too long. Collecting every other
day seems to be optimal. Store it in the fridge until boiling. Expect a volume
ratio of 40 (raw sap) to 1 (maple syrup).
Additionally, one is supposed to boil the syrup outside and for many,
many hours over a wood fire because it is so messy.
I
am wondering (a) how I will have time to stand outside boiling syrup for
multiple hours and then (b) why I actually care as we don’t ever eat maple
syrup.
The
answer to (b) is easy: it’s the principle of the thing, damn it.
Stay
tuned for the answer to (a).