Hayden Pond
I am so grateful to Howard Mason and Stone Walls for making information about an up and down sawmill available to me. I had seen the original at Mr. Mason's some time ago and spotted the section which was reprinted in "our magazine" and wanted to get a copy of that part of it.
My interest stems from the fact that John Brockett, my husband's ancestor, bought eighty acres of land in Blandford in 1793 out of Farm Lot #43, known as Birch Meadow Lot from the brook running through it. Instead of making the brook a boundary on the west, he owned across it which seemed at first unusual. However, on thinking things through, it was evident he intended to dam the brook with the cooperation of a neighbor, perhaps James Campbell, who owned land to the south in Farm Lot #44.
A pond, later known as Hayden Pond, was made and a canal constructed from the lower end to a mill erected on the neighbor's property. For many years real estate tax records show that John Brockett owned one-half interest in the mill. Later on, his descendants were owners.
The mill is long gone although I know its site. I am sure it was operating for many years. On reading diaries of my father-in- law last winter, I came across entries referring to the mill in 1864, with the board feet sawed on different days. He sometimes operated the mill all night long. I believe it was still in use for many more years, but have no sure proof.
Hayden Pond is no more. The City of Springfield bought all the land along the west side of Cobble Mountain Road a few years ago. They installed a pumping station in Huntington and a huge pipeline to Blandford to carry water, when needed, from Littleville Reservoir into the swamp above Hayden Pond. This would then flow into Cobble Mountain Reservoir. Because authorities in Springfield declared it to be a "dirty pond", it was drained and only the brook remains. When the dam was removed, a big chestnut log was found in which the "gate" had been placed.
The pond was a wonderful place, though. In early spring the peepers nearly burst themselves with their shrill, constant calling. One night my son said, "Mommy, can't you stop that noise?" The best I could do was close the window.
At one time suckers ran up the little feeder brook to spawn. We had a wise old mother cat who always went down and sat by a narrow place ready to scoop out a fish when it went by. She was pretty adept,
too.
Redwing blackbirds, squeaking like rusty hinges, with black ducks and colorful mallards doing "tip-ups", were always there in the spring. Once I saw a pair of small black and white bufflehead ducks. Occasionally there would be a blue heron standing stiffly to catch an unwary frog. Bitterns, too, were there at times, looking for all the world like dried out bits of wood sticking out above the pond weeds. Their calls sounded like the working of an old time pump.
Several times otter were seen playing in the water but they never stayed long. In later years, beaver came and built their complex houses. My husband was not too happy about that because they raised the water level and flooded some of our best hay land. When disturbed, a flat tail slammed against the surface of the water, sounding like breaking a board in half crosswise.
Dragonflies darted above the pond and water striders made dimples on the surface. A look down through the water revealed other life such as pollywogs in various stages of development, newts, and small schools of fish. We did not swim there because of the possibility of encountering leeches ugly things! There were also water snakes seen at times. Swallows would do a sort of ballet dance above the pond in summer, swooping down to catch the insects just above the water. Kingfishers, too, made sudden dives to capture a fish. From my living room window, I often looked across the pond to see a row of glistening shells of big turtles sunning themselves on an old log.
In winter, the pond was a safe mecca for skaters. No public maintenance there! The skaters cleared off the snow themselves when necessary. I have seen perhaps fifty skaters, young and old, at one time - amateurs with their new Christmas skates wobbling around, tumbling down, but picking themselves up and trying again; also experts moving along so easily and gracefully. If the ice was right on moonlit nights, the air was filled with shouts and calls with a bonfire or two to take the chill out of fingers and toes.
One might paraphrase "This is the house that Jack built" and say:-
"This is the mill that John built.
This is the pond, that ran the mill that John built.
These are the fish, that lived in the pond, that ran the mill that John built.
These are the kingfishers, that caught the fish, that lived in the pond, that ran the mill that John built."
And on and on, ad infinitum.
What about the ecology of the area? Who can say that draining the pond was good or bad? I am not an expert on such matters but I do know I miss a lot of enjoyment.
My interest stems from the fact that John Brockett, my husband's ancestor, bought eighty acres of land in Blandford in 1793 out of Farm Lot #43, known as Birch Meadow Lot from the brook running through it. Instead of making the brook a boundary on the west, he owned across it which seemed at first unusual. However, on thinking things through, it was evident he intended to dam the brook with the cooperation of a neighbor, perhaps James Campbell, who owned land to the south in Farm Lot #44.
A pond, later known as Hayden Pond, was made and a canal constructed from the lower end to a mill erected on the neighbor's property. For many years real estate tax records show that John Brockett owned one-half interest in the mill. Later on, his descendants were owners.
The mill is long gone although I know its site. I am sure it was operating for many years. On reading diaries of my father-in- law last winter, I came across entries referring to the mill in 1864, with the board feet sawed on different days. He sometimes operated the mill all night long. I believe it was still in use for many more years, but have no sure proof.
Hayden Pond is no more. The City of Springfield bought all the land along the west side of Cobble Mountain Road a few years ago. They installed a pumping station in Huntington and a huge pipeline to Blandford to carry water, when needed, from Littleville Reservoir into the swamp above Hayden Pond. This would then flow into Cobble Mountain Reservoir. Because authorities in Springfield declared it to be a "dirty pond", it was drained and only the brook remains. When the dam was removed, a big chestnut log was found in which the "gate" had been placed.
The pond was a wonderful place, though. In early spring the peepers nearly burst themselves with their shrill, constant calling. One night my son said, "Mommy, can't you stop that noise?" The best I could do was close the window.
At one time suckers ran up the little feeder brook to spawn. We had a wise old mother cat who always went down and sat by a narrow place ready to scoop out a fish when it went by. She was pretty adept,
too.
Redwing blackbirds, squeaking like rusty hinges, with black ducks and colorful mallards doing "tip-ups", were always there in the spring. Once I saw a pair of small black and white bufflehead ducks. Occasionally there would be a blue heron standing stiffly to catch an unwary frog. Bitterns, too, were there at times, looking for all the world like dried out bits of wood sticking out above the pond weeds. Their calls sounded like the working of an old time pump.
Several times otter were seen playing in the water but they never stayed long. In later years, beaver came and built their complex houses. My husband was not too happy about that because they raised the water level and flooded some of our best hay land. When disturbed, a flat tail slammed against the surface of the water, sounding like breaking a board in half crosswise.
Dragonflies darted above the pond and water striders made dimples on the surface. A look down through the water revealed other life such as pollywogs in various stages of development, newts, and small schools of fish. We did not swim there because of the possibility of encountering leeches ugly things! There were also water snakes seen at times. Swallows would do a sort of ballet dance above the pond in summer, swooping down to catch the insects just above the water. Kingfishers, too, made sudden dives to capture a fish. From my living room window, I often looked across the pond to see a row of glistening shells of big turtles sunning themselves on an old log.
In winter, the pond was a safe mecca for skaters. No public maintenance there! The skaters cleared off the snow themselves when necessary. I have seen perhaps fifty skaters, young and old, at one time - amateurs with their new Christmas skates wobbling around, tumbling down, but picking themselves up and trying again; also experts moving along so easily and gracefully. If the ice was right on moonlit nights, the air was filled with shouts and calls with a bonfire or two to take the chill out of fingers and toes.
One might paraphrase "This is the house that Jack built" and say:-
"This is the mill that John built.
This is the pond, that ran the mill that John built.
These are the fish, that lived in the pond, that ran the mill that John built.
These are the kingfishers, that caught the fish, that lived in the pond, that ran the mill that John built."
And on and on, ad infinitum.
What about the ecology of the area? Who can say that draining the pond was good or bad? I am not an expert on such matters but I do know I miss a lot of enjoyment.