By Wilson Kerr — Columnist
It had rained the day before, but the morning was chilly and clear.
In the pre-dawn of April 19, 1775, the peepers were still sounding their age-old song of spring, and skunk cabbage was poking up in the swamplands. The robins were back in Concord, and the trees were starting to bud. I imagine a cacophony of birdsong building with dawn’s arrival, as assembled militiamen stomped their feet and blew into their hands to stay warm — nervously wondering what the day would bring.
Though tension had been building for years, the events of that April day in 1775 marked the beginning of the end of British rule over the 13 colonies. The Declaration of Independence was signed in the summer of 1776, and the Treaty of Paris ended the fighting six years later.
Ralph Waldo Emerson called the men who heeded the revolutionary call to arms that day “embattled farmers.” Most who lived here in 1775 used oxen or horses to till the fertile floodplains created by the annual flooding of our three rivers. In part, this is what attracted the first 12 families of settlers to Musketaquid, the “grassy plain” in 1635, a mere 15 years after the pilgrims landed.
Concord’s farmers would have been far more attuned to Earth’s natural rhythms than we are today. And it must have been very quiet, as the internal combustion engine was still half a century from being invented. Imagine.
Nature — and the unnatural
For the human world of borders on maps and country-forming self-determination, this would prove to be a day of profound historical importance. For nature in the fields and woods of Concord, it was just another day, miraculous and beautiful, but no more or less so than the one prior. What does the natural world know of warfare or aspirations of freedom from tyranny?
I imagine a whitetail deer startling from the distant sound of musketry and then going about its search for green shoots after a long winter. Perhaps, deep in a stand of remaining old-growth forest, one of the last gray wolves in the state looked up at the presumed rumble of thunder, and then set off, fruitlessly trying to find another of its kind.
Under the command of Maj. Gen. Thomas Gage, about 700 “regulars” had marched from Boston the evening of April 18, with orders to seize munitions hidden in Concord. These young men must have felt very far away from home. A confrontation in Lexington very early in the morning of the 19th left eight local farmers dead or dying (including Prince Estabrook, an enslaved man). Soon the redcoats were re-organized by regimental drummers and marched toward Concord.
At 7:30 a.m. they arrived, splitting up, with some moving into Concord Center to search for weapons caches and roughly 100 heading to the North Bridge, where about 450 local militiamen were gathered on the hill across the river.
Migration and musket fire
Back then, the Concord River still held Atlantic salmon — finishing their annual spring run from the sea. Unimpeded by the not-yet-built dams of industry, they swam free, following the instinct to migrate to the still-unpolluted gravel bed spawning grounds upstream, just as they had through the ages.
As smoke from burning captured supplies rose over the trees, tensions rose. Musket fire erupted as the outnumbered British tried to stop the approaching colonials. By nightfall, 273 British soldiers and 95 “embattled farmers” were killed, wounded, or lost, and the Revolutionary War had begun.
As we look back, let us notice the same robins and peepers and spring blooms that might have provided a moment of peace and comfort to those fighting that day. Let us rejoice in the fact that many of Earth’s rhythms remain reassuringly uninterrupted and farming remains a vibrant part of Concord. Let us take pride in our awareness of nature and endeavor to learn more, even as we mourn the lack of salmon or herring and consider the changes we can each make to help preserve this place we all cherish.
And may we never forget that tyranny can regain a foothold if we do not remain vigilant and steadfast in our resolve to preserve what was fought for 250 years ago.
I hope you will wake up early on April 19 to spend some Time Outdoors and see the 6 a.m. Dawn Salute at the North Bridge. If you do, listen and look for the same signs of spring the “embattled farmers” would have savored in 1775. I hope to see you there.
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Wilson Kerr lives in Concord and is an avid outdoorsman and amateur naturalist. This monthly column is written to help grow awareness of the wonders of nature. In this increasingly fast-paced and technology-packed world, it is important to stop and take in the beauty of our area and the animals that inhabit it. The author hopes this column will be read by families and used as a teaching tool and that you will spend more … Time Outdoors.
