Volume 14 Issue 2 (Spring 2022)
“There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature—the assurance
that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.” ~Rachel Carson

We’re Still Here!
The response to my elegiac introduction to the Fall issue of The Hemlock, where I hinted
that it might be the last one, was so positive and heart-warming that we’ve decided to
publish another issue. Since our first issue came out in March 2018, this marks the 15th
spring of this online journal. As has always been the case, our writers have contributed
a first-rate collection of essays that engage with all three of our themes:
environmentalism, outdoor recreation, and local history. The fact that so many of the
contributors are not directly associated with LHU suggests that we are offering
something that is valued by the larger community.
On the Sweet Edge of Winter: Maple Trees and Sap
~Heather Bechtold, Associate Professor of Biology
By this time of year many agree it has been a long winter. As the length of daylight
steadily increases and hints of spring appear, I can’t help but start thinking about
staying outside all night stoking a fire while watching sweet water boil. If that sounds
crazy, then you need to experience the tradition of maple sugaring. For me, it is the final
break of the winter doldrums.
In the last bits of winter, when nights are still freezing hard, but days are warming-- the
sap in maple trees (Acer species) begin to move toward outer branches for bud
production and leaf formation. A shallow hole and spiel can be pounded in the side of a
tree, and a bucket hung to collect the flowing sap. Sap is then boiled outside over an
open wood fire and water is evaporated off. After 39 gallons of water is removed, the
remaining concentrated gallon of syrup can range in color from amber honey to dark
molasses and be shared over a pancake breakfast.

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The quality of syrup is given a letter grade of either A or B depending on color, clarity,
and flavor. Early season collection (Feb-Mar) produces the clearest sap and highestgrade syrup, void of secondary compounds that might tint the flavor and color as buds
develop and form. B grade syrup comes from sap produced later in the season (MarApr) and has a rich, dark, and flavorful characteristic often used for baking and
commercial uses.
Globally, maple syrup production and consumption are
most prevalent in North America. This is clearly attributed
to the high densities of over 100 different species of maple
trees in northeastern states. Native Americans of the
Haudenosaunee taught early settlers in this region to tap
trees and process the sap. Tribal legend suggests that a
young Haudenosaunee watched squirrels nipping into
bark of maple trees and then later returning to lick the
sugary condensed substance from the bark. The young
tribal child slashed a small cut into the outer wood of the
tree and discovered the clear sweet water. The March moon
is sometimes called the Sap Moon for it indicates trees
turning on and budding out, but is more commonly called
the Worm moon as soils warm and worms appear.
Whichever you call this moon, it is an indicator of warmer
weather approaching.
Maple sugaring in the 1800s was also a venue for a political statement for women, who
at the time, did not have the right to vote. Women protested slavery by boycotting
white sugar which used slave labor for production in southern states and West Indies.
Women instead made and used maple sugar and syrup in cooking which then was
identified by signs saying “made with maple sugar” prominently at fairs and baked
sales. Maple syrup became not only a tasty treat but also a message supporting “Votes
for Women” and the abolition of slavery.
Any tree will produce sap, but the Acer family has a higher sugar content than other
trees, and will yield more syrup per hour of evaporating. Most maple syrup comes from
sugar maples, but red, black, silver and Norway maples as well as box elder and birch
species can be tapped. According to the USDA any maple tree can be tapped, but silver
maple sap is watery and red maple has a strong “bud” flavor. Red and silver maples are
the first to bud and thus develop a bitter taste faster. It is recommended to tap mostly
sugar maples, and add red or black maple to create a more caramel taste. Although now
thought of as invasive tree, Norway maples also produce syrup similar to Sugar

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maples. Norways are commonly used as landscape trees and found throughout the
street tree sidewalks of Lock Haven both on campus and in the neighborhoods, and are
good candidates to tap.
Maple sugaring is a sign of optimism for spring. It is the first chance to shake off the
winter slumber and work together with friends and neighbors by tending a fire, sieving
off “salt sands or niter” from the boil, and being outside. It is as much a group effort as
it is a crafting of an artesian food product.
There is much to be grateful for after a long winter including bright sunshine,
friendship, pancakes and sweet maple trees. Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote about making
maple syrup candy on snow with other children in the book Little House in the Big
Woods and is quoted saying “some old fashion things like fresh air and sunshine are
hard to beat.”
If you see buckets hanging from trees on campus in March, you are welcome to join the
sugaring community, I can lend you a kit. Just look for the steaming boiling evaporator
and if you’re lucky stay for a few pancakes, some sunshine, and friendship.
Want to Clean up an Illegal Dumpsite? Teamwork Makes the Dream Work
~Meghan Lehman (DEP Community Relations Coordinator)
Have you ever seen a mess that seemed insurmountable? No, we’re not talking about
your teenager’s bedroom. How about a mass dumping ground full of every imaginable
form of waste, scattered across the landscape and
tangled under vegetation along a steep slope in an
inaccessible area? Illegal dumpsites are still an alltoo-common scourge on Pennsylvania’s landscape,
and cleaning them up can be an incredibly
daunting challenge. Recently I interviewed Keith
Ruhl, a solid waste specialist in DEP’s
Northcentral Regional Office, who has worked
with community organizations in Pennsylvania’s
rural Northern Tier to pioneer a successful template for cleaning up large illegal
dumpsites.
When did you start doing illegal dumpsite cleanups, and how did it get started?
About five years ago, a representative from the non-profit organization Keep PA
Beautiful visited our regional office to make our Waste Management Program staff
aware of the illegal dumpsite surveys their organization conducted for the counties in

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our region. We started reviewing those survey reports and began growing a network of
like-minded individuals and organizations that we thought might want to help.
Who are the partners and what is the process in identifying a dumpsite to clean up, typically?
County Conservation Districts, municipal and county governments, solid waste
authorities, local companies, and non-profit organizations, such as watershed groups,
are all excellent potential partners. In Tioga County, we have a “live wire” Conservation
District Manager named Erica Tomlinson who is very passionate and driven to do these
projects, for example. There are a lot of good folks out there, and you just have to make
the connections to find them. One person is excited about doing something, and they
know other people, and one thing leads to another; and pretty soon, you have a critical
mass of help to pull it off!
For our first cleanup in Deerfield Township, the dumpsite was in the county dumpsite
survey book, but I had actually stopped at that site before I even knew about the book. I
had looked over the edge and seen the nasty mess over the bank. So I thought that
would be a good one to start with. I got in touch with Erica and Tioga County Planning,
who I had worked with on waste issues in the past, and Tioga County Emergency
Management Agency. One thing grew into another, and we scheduled some
introductory meetings with neighbors in the community and planned out the project
with the partners who committed to it. After about six months of laying the
groundwork, that first cleanup took place.
Can you describe what the private sector role has been in the cleanups?
Many private companies and industries have a community service program, and they
often have the people and machines needed to help pull something like this off. It’s a
matter of contacting their community services person, explaining the cleanup concept,
and asking if they have any resources to contribute. Many have been more than happy
to jump right in by donating people and equipment. That really makes it happen,
because these resources allow us to pick big loads up from steep banks and haul waste
from places where nobody could do it by hand, such as up a 200-foot bank out of a
gully. So you really need the heavy equipment to make it happen. And they’re anxious
to do these projects because it reflects on their dedication to the community.
On a cleanup day, could you describe what the typical process entails?
Prior to the day of the event, we arrange for a roll off container (dumpster) to be
delivered to the site and for disposal services, which are typically donated by a local
landfill or solid waste organization at no cost. When the volunteers arrive at the event,
we have a safety meeting to go over the roles of how we’re going to do the project. We
hand out safety equipment and discuss safety rules to make sure nobody comes home

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with any cuts or damage. Then we all grab black contractor-grade trash bags, scramble
down the bank, spread out, and start picking up waste. When a bag is full, we dump it
into a supersack, which is a large woven polyethylene fabric bag, a very tough material
with handles woven right onto the bag. We can attach a rope through those handles and
drag the bag up the slippery slope using a truck or machine parked at the top. It’s really
easy and works really well. Then we dump the supersacks out in the roll off container
using a backhoe. Generally, the supersacks make it up the hill several times before
they’re really destroyed enough that you can’t use them anymore. Sometimes, we use
the same process to haul large items, such as mattresses or appliances, up the slope
individually. We repeat this process as many times as needed until it’s done.
Can you describe some of the larger and odder materials you’ve found in these dumpsites?
We find appliances, vacuum cleaners, toasters, once in a while a dehumidifier or an
electric heater. Old televisions are a problem because you often have to pay a disposal
fee to get rid of a television at an authorized disposal that accepts electronics, and a lot
of people won’t pay that, so they take it over and throw it down over the bank on the
nearest country road, and that’s the end of it. We always find lots of tires; they’re
another big disposal issue, cost-wise, for persons to get rid of. Another frequent thing
we find is deer carcasses.
On our most recent dumpsite cleanup, we found a cache of probably 100 syringes and
needles, possibly from a diabetic patient, based on the packaging. You always find a
mix of household waste and some demolition waste and building parts. Some items are
truly unusual and interesting. Some tell a story. We always compare notes on the
oddest items we find. One thing you don’t find as much are items that have value
when taken to a scrapyard. If someone can get a nickel out of it for scrap metal, usually
it won’t go over the bank.
These sites are not usually the result of the landowner dumping on their own property or a
single person dumping, right?
Exactly. It’s usually in a remote section of the country on a steep hill with a pull-off
along the road where the public can easily pull off the road and in a few seconds, throw
their stuff over the bank and drive away undetected. And once it gets started, it attracts
others. Very rarely will you find clues to ownership in the garbage, but once in a while,
people will leave addresses or mail or something in the garbage that allow us to trace it
back to who dumped it. Often the property owners are absent (living elsewhere) or not
attentive to what’s going on, and that’s another contributing factor. Of course, we need
the landowner’s permission to conduct a cleanup on the property.

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What advice do you have for someone who wants to tackle a project like this and clean up a large,
complicated, and persistent community dumpsite? And how do you keep them from dumping
again as soon as you clean it up?
First, get involved with like-minded individuals, such as your Conservation District, a
watershed association or other community volunteers, maybe your township
supervisors. It’s just building a web of interested people in the community. If you can,
get involved in some kind of club that wants to do this kind of work and get a synergy
going between a number of different people. Every place is going to be a little bit
different, but I think Conservation Districts are a good place to start and see if they have
any interest. There may be other entities in the communities that are focused on
“adopting” specific locations they enjoy using for outdoor recreation.
To prevent recurrence and secure the site is a difficult thing. A couple of things have
been done in the past. At the Deerfield Twp. project in 2018, PennDOT came in after the
cleanup and walled off the whole pull-off area with a guardrail so nobody can stop
there anymore. If you can’t pull off the road, you can’t dump; that’s a big deterrent right
there. We also usually try to post signs after a community cleanup that say “No
Dumping: Community Cleanup Area,” but that’s not always effective for the people
who are going to dump anyway. If it’s a persistent problem, somebody can even get
cameras through Keep PA Beautiful to surveil the situation.
It’s very difficult to prevent it and stop it forever, but usually, a pile of trash begets
more trash. So if somebody pulls over and doesn’t see anything, they might think twice
about throwing their stuff down there. But if there’s already a big dump, they don’t
think anything of it. Over it goes, they’re out of there, they’re done. They’re usually in
very remote areas where nobody is there, not a lot of traffic, so it’s easy to get away
with. And that’s why these things happen. So creating some sense that the site is being
watched may help.
What is the satisfaction you get at the end of the projects?
Well, you get an impressive before and after picture, of course! It’s satisfying that
you’ve actually accomplished something. You’ve taken garbage away from the
potential of polluting a nearby waterway, which is also good, because a lot of these sites
are right above or next to a stream or creek. And you also have the camaraderie of all
the individuals who work together. Once people get cleaning up, it’s pretty fun. You’re
not just picking up trash, you get to hobnob with like-minded people who want to
make the place better and leave it better than they found it. And you do a good thing
for the community too. It’s a good project all around!

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Keep PA Beautiful registers these events and keeps track of them. So you can always
call them for assistance, they’ll give you moral support, gloves and bags, whatever they
can supply. There’s a lot of reward in doing a project like this. I encourage anyone with
any interest in getting involved to find those folks in your community that really are
interested and passionate, and find the resources and you can make it happen.
To find more information and free resources for tackling illegal dumpsites, or to report an illegal
dumpsite in your area, visit Keep Pennsylvania Beautiful's website:
https://www.keeppabeautiful.org/. To learn more about the Pennsylvania Litter Action Plan,
which was developed with input from over 100 stakeholders from around the state and presents
actionable solutions to reduce littering, visit the Pennsylvania Litter Action Plan website. A
video version of this interview can be seen at https://youtu.be/Sx9lE36z1hA.

The Story of Chief John Logan of Centre County
~Ralph Seeley (Retired from PSU/ARL)
Taghneghdoarus, known as John Logan, was a half-breed Cayuga posted by the Iroquois
to the center of this state to project the Iroquois control of Pennsylvania. He lived at
Mingoville, also called Hecla, from 1755 to 1770. Before that he lived for a year in the
Kishicoquillas valley. There are many Logan place names still today in the central part
of the state. He was described as physically imposing, respected for wisdom, and having
“tolerable” ability to converse in English. A missionary observer said he was “a man of
superior talents but of deep Melancholy, to whom life had become a torment.” Perhaps
this was because of the constant pressure of white settlement into Indian territory.
Among other qualities, he was a devoted family man who liked little children.
Logan’s father Shikellamy was a Frenchman
captured as a child, who married a high-placed
Cayuga woman.
Shikellamy had been the
Iroquois representative to the white authorities in
Philadelphia, and when Shikellamy died, his son
Logan took over the position. Logan’s territory to
oversee stretched from northeast to southern
Pennsylvania. Among the duties he had to
undertake was to remonstrate with the Delawares
and Shawnees after they murderously attacked
white settlers on the west bank of the
Susquehanna in the Fall of 1755. Together with
the western Pennsylvania Iroquois representative

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named Scarrouyady, the two intended to pass along the Iroquois attitude that the
previously subsidiary tribes had done wrong. They were met with an angry Delaware
rebuttal, including the threat to emasculate them, and they retreated. Thereafter the
Iroquois treated the Pennsylvania tribes warily.
Logan and family were comfortable in worldly goods, as many Iroquois had become in
the fur trade. Both he and his wife had horses, which were expensive. Their cabins for
extended family at Mingoville would have been the equal of the better settler cabins of
the day, not huts or long houses. As an example of their situation, when Mrs. Logan
returned from a trip by horse to the only mill in the area in the Lewistown vicinity, she
made a side trip to give flour to the newly-settled Boggs family at Milesburg. This was a
gracious social gesture that indicates the relations between settlers and the Iroquois at
that time. The wife of Logan was given the English name Mellana Alvaretta by a British
officer (from the web-site geni.com). Her tribal origin is unknown. She was described as
unusually bright and sunny in disposition. The story of her making the several-day
round trip from Mingoville to the Lewistown mill, possibly alone on her horse, shows a
free spirit.
After the “New Purchase” of 1768 from the Iroquois, the days of Logan’s living at
Mingoville were numbered. So in about 1770 he and his family swept up the natives
living in the purchase area and he moved west to a place on the Ohio River called Yellow
Creek. One day when he was away hunting his whole family was murdered by renegade
whites. He became bitter and thereafter opposed whites.
To the white authorities he sent the message below, which has become known as Logan’s
Lament:
I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not
meat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long
and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for
the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, Logan is the friend of white
men. I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. Col. Cresap, the
last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not sparing even
my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature.
This called on me for revenge. I have sought it: I have killed many: I have fully glutted my
vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbour a thought that
mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is
there to mourn for Logan? Not one.

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Logan was himself murdered about 1786 by a nephew who justified his action by saying
that Logan had become presumptuous, “too great a man to live,” and the nephew
expected to inherit Logan’s greatness. The nephew comes across as being half-witted,
plus vicious (see Indians in Pennsylvania, by Paul A. W. Wallace). Logan was a thorn in
the side of the Seneca decision-makers (i.e. Chiefs Cornplanter, Red Jacket and Handsome
Lake), because by that time they were in the position of having to make the best of a bad
situation. They were under great pressure to sell their lands to the whites. It seems likely
that the high-placed Senecas used the nephew to get rid of the troublesome Cayuga. Thus
Logan was expendable. The half-witted nephew was a tool. In Logan’s depression over
the loss of his family he is thought to have become addicted to alcohol, easy for a native
to do. He died a shattered man.
They Arched the Flood!
~Guy Graybill (Local author and photographer)
Using words borrowed from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s 1850 poem, “Concord Bridge,”
we offer a unique selection of north-central Pennsylvania bridges from the state’s
illustrious past.
Although Pennsylvania is blessed with nearly 200 of the delightfully picturesque covered
bridges, this collection features a variety of bridge types. This variety is meant to remind
readers of the different types of bridges that once eased the travel problems of our northcentral Pennsylvania ancestors.

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1. Hayes Covered Bridge rests in a serene farmland setting just north of Route 45, west of
Mifflinburg. The 63-foot span once provided critical passage across Buffalo Creek.
With a newer span now constructed beside this one, the bridge is no longer a vital part
of Union County’s transportation system.

2. Nicholson Viaduct, over Tunkhannock Creek in Wyoming County. This is a “concrete
deck arch bridge” of imposing height and size, straddling the creek and a large area
beyond. Opened in 1915, it dominates the skyline of the town of Nicholson with its
length of more than 2000 feet and its highest measure at 240 feet above the creek. Today
it carries traffic of the Norfolk Southern Railway, although the writing on the top of the
visible arch reveals that this concrete giant was built by the Lackawanna Railroad. It is
the nation’s largest concrete bridge!

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3. The North Oriental Covered Bridge (or Beaver or Curry’s Corner) is a state-maintained
structure situated on SR 2023, due north of the very small town of Oriental. It sits over
the waters of the West Branch of the Mahantango Creek. Near to this bridge was a park
in earlier years. That park, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, once (pre-television)
hosted summer performances by the top country music stars of the day. The covered
bridge depicted here is but one of Pennsylvania’s 197 such structures that still “arch the
flood.”

4. An abandoned rail bridge across the Susquehanna River at Lewisburg. Its still-intact
geodetic marker, which is located on the east-end of the bridge, tells its age (1934). It
also sits mere yards from where a Centre County District Attorney vanished in 2005.

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5. Rishel Covered Bridge, an 1830 structure. Somewhat isolated by today’s newer
highways, Northumberland County’s Rishel Covered Bridge still carries some local traffic
across Chillisquasque Creek. A Wikipedia site (4-9-21) states that “It may be the oldest
covered wooden bridge in the United States. It is listed elsewhere as being the oldest in
the commonwealth.
Tracing the origins of Henry Shoemaker’s Tales: The Dancing Chairs
~Jeffrey Frazier (Local Author and Lecturer)
Henry W. Shoemaker was a man of controversy. Although credited with saving much
of the state’s legendary lore by recording the tales he collected in his many books on the
subject, he was also suspected of not only inventing some of those same stories, but also
embellishing and romanticizing them to such a degree that folklorists considered them
to be useless for academic purposes. In fact one writer once referred to him as a
“cobbler of tales”, and another claimed that once he picked up his pen “it ran away
from him”! (Simon Bronner, “Popularizing Pennsylvania”).

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Despite these kinds of barbs and doubts,
Shoemaker’s tales proved to be very popular with
the general populace, and remain so to this day. In
fact, it has proved an interesting pastime for this
author to explore just how much of a Shoemaker
tale is fact and how much is “fancy”. And as part of
that research it is sometimes intriguing to speculate
just where he got the idea for a story in the first
place, especially one that sounds particularly “farfetched”. One such tale that lends itself to that kind
of speculation is a Shoemaker’s story that appears
in his volume titled The Indian Steps.
Like Shoemaker I have traveled extensively throughout the Keystone State, collecting
legends and folktales along the way. But compared to my ease of travel by car, it is
amazing how widely Shoemaker’s travels extended in the latter parts of the nineteenth
and earlier parts of the twentieth century when his mode of travel was horse and
buggy. He seems to have made it his life’s work, as have I, but the bulk of his collecting
occurred in central Pennsylvania, particularly in the counties of Lycoming, Clinton, and
Centre. It was as he was traveling through Centre County one time that he was told of
an abandoned homestead there that stirred his imagination, particularly when learning
it was supposedly haunted.
He described the journey in his chapter titled “The Old Brick on the Plains” in his
volume of More Allegheny Episodes. Therein he notes that one day when traveling
through Brush Valley of Centre County with his friend and frequent traveling
companion John H. Chatham, they were caught in a fierce thunderstorm and sought
shelter in a nearby farmhouse. Their host was particularly gracious and voluble and
soon the conversation turned to the nearby “Walker tract”, an expanse of enormous
white pines, hemlocks, and white oaks that had been recently lumbered off. Then
Chatham, “spoke of a story he had heard as a boy”, about a house standing at nearby
Wolf’s Store, “where the dancing chairs misbehaved at night” (Shoemaker, More
Allegheny Episodes).

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Years later Shoemaker would recall that story in a chapter titled “The Dancing Chairs’
in his Indian Steps volume. Therein he expands on the story by first describing the
house in question but disguising its true location:
“One could feel certain that the old weather-beaten mansion at Kern’s Store, that
had once been painted red, was haunted, even when first seeing it from across
the valley a mile away. It was not because of the sign ‘No Hanting’ scrawled in
crooked characters on a board nailed to a tree in a wood as one emerges from
Wolf’s Gap that makes us feel we are in ghostly territory; it is the aspect, terrible,
lonely, bleak, of the old house on the pike The shutters are so tightly closed, the
path running to the side door so overgrown with weeds, and the dead pear trees
in the yard so dilapidated, that it would appear like a house deserted were it not
for the uncontrollable feeling of the presence of a ghost. . . . Under the eaves run
a row of tiny windows, storm stained and rusty paned, that look like eyes that
have cried and dried their tears and cried again, veritable eyes of the ghost. . . . .
There remains no living foliage around the haunted house, but on a windy, chill
afternoon in April it looks barer and more forbidding than ever.”
Then follows Shoemaker’s version of the tale supposedly recalled by Mr. Chatham. The
account relates that during the Civil War a young lady who lived in the house with her
parents, whose last name was Kern, fell in love with a local stalwart and soon the
couple was engaged to be married. However, before they could “tie the knot”, the
summons to war came calling and the young lady’s sweetheart decided to answer. Off
he went, and the young lady, whose name was Esther, remained faithful to him until
one day another soldier stopped by with news of a family friend. He spent the evening,
and during long conversations with him, Esther’s devotion to her fiancé wavered
briefly, but just enough that she felt guilty long after the stranger had departed.
She never heard from him again, but when her fiancé came back and sat with her in the
parlor on most evenings, her guilt seemed to intensify. Then one night when she
denied ever feeling interest in any other man while he was gone, the large walnut
dresser in one corner began to bounce about on its castors. Then on subsequent

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evenings whenever she would lie about her unwavering devotion, the chairs would
dance and the sofa began to rock to and fro.
Convinced that her lying about her brief moment of infidelity, even though it had only
been in her mind, was causing the scary phenomena, Esther never felt at ease with her
husband, even after they were wed. Her unease created a rift in their marriage, until
one day her husband was killed in a buggy accident. Her parents eventually died also,
and she spent the remainder of her days as a recluse, allowing only a few visitors to
enter the house. They would later recall that during their visits there would arise a
frightful banging and thumping from the attic, where Esther had stored the parlor
chairs and furniture. It was at this stage that Shoemaker claimed that Esther was still
living in the mansion, “with a haunted, hunted, look, as if born down by a host of
sorrows” (Shoemaker, The Indian Steps).
Much to my surprise and delight, I later not only found what was probably the source
of inspiration for Shoemaker’s story but also found that the house of the dancing chairs
he described was still standing. My first clues came from Shoemaker’s comments
regarding the “Walker Tract” and Wolf’s Gap. As I was somewhat familiar with the
area, I knew where these places were, and that they were, according to Shoemaker, in
the same neighborhood as his haunted house. When I went there in 1970 it didn’t take
long to see the place standing right along the road. From Shoemaker’s description,
particularly that of its “tiny windows under the eaves”, I immediately recognized it (see
the photo below).
A subsequent conversation with the house’s owner confirmed my suspicions when he
mentioned that people had once avoided the place because it was considered to be
haunted, owing to a suicide that had occurred therein almost a century ago. Further
confirmation came when I found out that the old farmer’s name was Walker, and that
the farm had been in his family for over a hundred years. That all seemed to mesh
somewhat with Shoemaker’s story, but none of my subsequent research could uncover
any local reference, besides Shoemaker’s, to furniture mysteriously moving on its own
in the haunted house. Then I found an account that seemed to explain it all.

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One day when reading passages in Linn’s Annals of Buffalo Valley, Pennsylvania, I came
across a reference to a “Witchcraft Farce” that occurred in Snyder County in 1825. In
that year, according to Linn, “a witchcraft was played in the family of a man named
Kern, in Beaver Township”. After the family first noticed that their milk turned sour
within a few hours of placing it in their springhouse, they found that it happened on a
daily basis. They attributed it to the machinations of a local witch, and within weeks it
was reported that “Kern’s tables and kitchen furniture were to be seen flying in all
directions, thrown, it was supposed by supernatural means”.
The phenomenon became a widely heralded event, and was also said to occur daily.
This regularity attracted large crowds, which of course benefitted Kern’s business
considerably. Eventually some of the more skeptical individuals who were more likely
to try to discover the origins of the poltergeist goings-on than be awed by it, came to
watch. They closely observed the activity in the background instead of being distracted
by the dancing and flying furniture. Even knives, forks, spoons, and ladles flying
through the air did not deter them from keeping cool heads, and upon their close
scrutiny they could see that the Kern’s daughters, along with Mrs. Kerns, were the
“witches” secretly throwing things around. Subsequent tricks to expose them, and an
exorcism ritual finally made the women confess, and, says Linn, “so ended the
enchantment” (John Blair Linn, Annals of Buffalo Valley, Pennsylvania, 1755-1855).
I will leave it up to the reader to decide if I have correctly traced Shoemaker’s
inspiration for his Dancing Chairs story. There are other Shoemaker stories which merit
the same detective work! I will be writing about those in the future, once I have
completed my next book titled “Pennsylvania Mountain Landmarks – an armchair
journey to some of the most inaccessible and unusual natural landmarks that can be
found in the Pennsylvania mountains”.

The Hemlock 14.2 (Spring 2022), page 17

The House of the Dancing Chairs
(Taken by the author in 1970, it was located along Route 192 near the small village of
Wolf’s Store in Centre County. It has since been torn down. The long-deserted place’s
tiny windows under the eaves, the shutters on the windows, and the overgrown path to
the side door all correspond with Shoemaker’s earlier description).
Flying Piranhas
~Jim Hyland (DCNR Forester)
North of Minnesota, and hidden deep in Ontario’s Quetico Canoe Wilderness, there’s a
place called Lonely Lake. Accessible only by canoe, visitors to Lonely Lake must
paddle and portage for two or more solid days to reach it.
It was on the final 300-rod (4950 ft) portage through the boreal pine swamp
surrounding Lonely Lake that I reached my limit of endurance. Not my limit for
paddling long distance or carrying a canoe through knee-deep muck, but for being
bitten by blood-sucking insects. My buddy Dave was in front, supporting the upsidedown canoe by resting the bow seat on his head and gripping the gunwales. I was
doing the same at the stern, and two-week’s gear was lashed into the boat.
As we labored through thick brush and across rotten, slippery corduroy and mud, the
mosquitoes began to swarm like flying piranhas. Out on the breezy open water, we
were safe from them, but now they had us trapped in the stagnant air of the swamp.
And ticks dropped off the brush to feast too, as I could see at least twenty on Dave, and
knew there had to be as many on me. The air was thick with mosquitoes, and they

The Hemlock 14.2 (Spring 2022), page 18

seemed to ignore our DEET and bit right through our clothing. There was nothing we
could do but press forward. Finally, Lonely Lake appeared through the trees. When we
reached her, we quickly boarded the canoe, paddled out to a rocky island and dove into
her cold water to sooth our welts and pick ticks.
Here in the Tiadaghton State Forest, springtime brings us several species of flying
piranhas.
In April and May, fishermen and turkey hunters will be attacked by clouds of
Prosimulium, which, according to DEP aquatic biologist Harry Vitolins, are those nasty
little black flies (many call them gnats) that swarm in your face by the hundreds and
bite you at any opportunity.
Black flies are about the size of a grain of rice, and there are likely to be as many around
your head as in a box of Uncle Ben’s. There are hundreds of species of black flies in
North America, and they are synonymous with wilderness in New England and
Canada. If there is a silver lining to their clouds, it is this: Prosimulium are reliable
indicators of clean, pure water, as they require it to reproduce.
Each spring they emerge from our hundreds of small, clean, fast-flowing mountain
streams and seek out our heads, apparently attracted by the carbon dioxide we emit.
But it’s only the females that pester us, as they need our blood to complete the
development of their eggs, having recently been fertilized by the males. They have a
sharp little pair of scissors for mouth parts, and they use them to snip us clean open,
secrete a little coagulant and a little pain killer (thanks!), then lap up our pooling blood.
Once they get their blood meal, they return to the stream to lay their eggs, which will
mature and emerge the following spring. There is only one generation of Prosimulium
per season.
But don’t put away your cigars after May, for there is another black fly waiting to
emerge. Simulium Jenningsi is next, and it is a species of black fly a bit smaller than
Prosimulium, but with a later emergence and multiple generations. Usually beginning
about the first week of May and continuing through the summer, the Pennsylvania
Department of Environmental Protection’s Black Fly Suppression Program begins. The
program involves the aerial spraying of local waterways including Pine Creek,
Loyalsock Creek, and the Susquehanna River just to name a few. Individual counties
enroll in the program and pay a percentage of the cost.
The waterways are sprayed with an extensively researched, and environmentally
friendly bacteria known as Bti, which targets only the larvae of black flies and similar

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species. Bti, which looks like chocolate milk when acquired in bulk, is mixed with
water and sprayed over the fast-flowing riffles of larger area streams and rivers where
the black fly larvae Simulium Jenningsi cling to rocks. The insects inhale the Bti and
succumb as it destroys their uniquely alkaline stomach linings. Uningested Bti
degrades harmlessly in a short period of time.
According to Harry Vitolins of DEP, the program began in 1986, and has been quietly
successful. “People don’t realize what a service we are performing”, commenting on
how miserable recreating in the area would be if the black flies were not kept in check
through monitoring and spraying.
True black flies are often confused with other black flying critters. Those nasty little
flies that look just like house flies and land on the back of your legs and feel like they
are poking you with a needle are called stable flies. The next time you curse them, you
can call them by name.
Then there are the deer flies: they look like little jet
fighters, fly even better, but are easy to smack when
you catch them on your arm and not on your head,
where they prefer to land.
No essay on bothersome flies would be complete
without mentioning the biting midge, or punkie, or
no-see-um. Small enough to buzz through mesh
screening, these minute piranhas are among the most bothersome of all biting flies.
Although there are many concoctions on the market that claim to keep flies from biting,
experts recommend products containing DEET, which was developed for the US Army
post WW2. I personally always squirm when using anything on my skin that is a
strong enough solvent to melt plastic, but it really does work.
My favorite method, albeit untried by me, was used by the New Jersey naturalist and
survivalist, Tom Brown Jr. He claims to have walked, completely naked, out the back
door of his New Jersey Pine Swamp home and survived for an entire year. To fend off
biting flies and mosquitos, he simply covered himself in thick mud. From time to time
his appearance would startle backcountry recreationists, as they thought they were
seeing the legendary “Jersey Devil”.

The Hemlock 14.2 (Spring 2022), page 20

The Pollinators of Pennsylvania
~Will Dowd (LHU alum; editor of Cambridge, MA Chronicle)
Pennsylvania pollinators--bats, bees, beetles, butterflies, flies, hummingbirds and
moths—are important for many reasons. According to the Pennsylvania Department of
Agriculture, Pennsylvania possesses the third most diverse, pollinator-dependent crops
in the United States. The University of Pittsburgh and Pennsylvania State University
value the state’s highly pollination-dependent crops at more than $260 million annually.
Furthermore, pollinators are fundamental to the creation and maintenance of the
biodiversity in the state’s wetlands and forest ecosystems. The National Science
Foundation notes that “Pollination is an ecological service--a role an organism plays in
its ecosystem that is essential to human life.” Connie Schmotzer, a retired consumer
horticulture educator for Penn State Extension in York County and the coordinator for
the university’s pollinator-friendly garden program, points out that the loss of
pollinators increases our vulnerability: “Every time we lose a pollinator we’ve definitely
lost a piece of that web, a part of what’s keeping our environment, our ecosystems
strong - and us alive.”
Honey bees, which were introduced to North America in the 17th century, add
$15 billion in increased value to the
United States’ commercial crops
annually, according to the United
States Geological Survey. Native
bees carry out 80 percent of all
pollination. In “The Bumble Bee
Lifestyle,” Pennsylvania State
University Assistant Professor Etya
Amsalem et al explain that the
bumble bee grabs hold of a bloom,
vibrates its wings and shakes out
pollen tightly packed in flowers. The
bee then collects the fallen grains in “pollen baskets” found on their hind legs. They
note that “This practice allows them to collect pollen from flowers that are more
difficult for honey bees to reach.” The specialized behavior proves quite effective for
Pennsylvania’s pumpkin, squash, cucumbers and melons.
Native pollinators and plants evolved together over thousands of years, forging
oftentimes harmonious and reciprocal relationships from which pollination systems
emerge. For instance, the red-throated hummingbird’s long beak fits perfectly in a

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balm-bee plant’s tubular-shaped flowers. Some native pollinators’ relations with their
native counterparts are so highly specialized that one could say they become quite
vulnerable. For example, adult monarchs exclusively drink nectar from milkweed
plants and help pollinate their blooms as they feed from flower to flower. Monarchs
deposit their eggs on the underside of milkweed leaves. Once they hatch, the
caterpillars carefully devour milkweed leaves.
Butterflies play an important role not only in pollination but also in the food web.
“It has been discovered that 96 percent of birds feed their young caterpillars,”
Schmotzer said. “They can’t feed them seeds. They can’t feed them berries. It has to be
caterpillars - which are high in protein--so they grow large enough to leave the nest.”
But our valuable pollinators are at risk. An 2017 study - “Pollinators in Peril: A
Systematic Status Review of North American and Hawaiian Native Bees” presents some
concerns:
•
•

Among native bee species with sufficient data to assess (1,437), more than half
(749) are declining.
Nearly 1 in 4 (347 native bee species) is imperiled and at increasing risk of
extinction.

Habitat fragmentation and loss to development and agriculture, parasites, pesticides,
invasive species, diseases and climate change are blamed for the deline. Schmotzer
observes, “When we cut down forests to build houses, to plant crops, to develop malls,
we take natural habitats and food away. We take out, we don’t put back. What we are
putting back: lawns with exotic plants.” We are essentially starving pollinators from
food and shelter.
But a solution exists. Schmotzer encourages us to plant native gardens in urban,
suburban, rural settings, to create little oases, islands of food for pollinators. “If we
could get everybody to take 1 percent of their property and put a pollinator garden in, it
would go a long, long way, ”said Schmotzer, who planted her first native garden in
1995. “We could actually create a tremendous amount of habitat.” State-level efforts are
underway to develop pollinator habitat along roadsides, truck stops, right of ways and
welcome centers.

The Hemlock 14.2 (Spring 2022), page 22

The Old Loggers Path
~Dave Gantz (www.walkwithgantz.com)
Located roughly 60 miles northeast of Lock Haven, the Old Loggers Path (OLP)
provides an excellent example of changing environmental conditions in Pennsylvania
forests. Some of these changes are natural, while others are anthropogenic. A hiker need
only walk a few miles along this 27 mile trail in Loyalsock State Forest to experience the
effects that time, weather, and humans have on the land.
Like so many other place names in PA, Loyalsock is a word derived from the language
of the first humans to inhabit this area: Native Americans. While the forest habitat has
changed significantly since indigenous communities lived here, many species have
remained. Deer, bear, and beaver are still common in this area. Step carefully, as
rattlesnakes often nest in rocky outcroppings. This forest also boasts excellent plants
such as jewelweed, blackberry, blueberry, poison ivy, ramps, Indian cucumber-root,
May apple, pitcher plant, marshmallow, and more. Predatory birds such as hawks,
osprey, and eagles are again abundant, as well as migratory songbirds. A short walk
along any section of the OLP, with a keen eye and a trusty field guide, will provide
plenty to see and learn.
It is difficult to observe relics from the first
inhabitants in today’s forest, but it is simple to find
traces of those after: Europeans. Aptly named, the
main route of the OLP generally meanders along
logging roads and railroads, which were built over
130 years ago. Hikers often feel the old railroad ties
under their feet while walking on this now dirt trail.
Iron tools can be seen on the trail west of Doe Run,
while an old fruit orchard is easy to spot east of Doe
Run. An old timber saw is a focal point on the trail
near Krimm Road. In fact, the main trailhead
parking area was a thriving lumber mill town for a
few decades in the early 1900’s. Now known as
Masten Ghost Town, this area boasted railroads and
several buildings. In the 1930’s it was used for the
Civilian Conservation Corps, which rebuilt the forest to what we see today. This once
thriving community is now a small forest campground where visitors can sleep on the
foundations of buildings.

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Luckily, the forests were allowed to regrow and are now managed by more sustainable,
scientific practices. Responsible timber sales, although still disruptive to trails and
natural ecological systems, are a part of the overall forest plan. The OLP leads through
several stands of tree species and alongside several timber cuts. It can be disheartening
to see the initial destruction, but visiting the area year after year provides great insight
on how a forest regenerates. Hikers will not forget successional species like American
beech, because they often trip and stub their toes on the shallow roots. Striped maple
grow alongside the trail, while towering Tulip poplar and Black cherry provide plenty
of shade in the hot summer months.
This forest continues to be utilized for its other natural resources, too. Hikers who reach
the OLP vistas on Sullivan Mountain notice wind turbines on distant ridges. There are
also many natural gas sites, pipelines, and electric lines in this forest. Some groups
claim that the OLP itself will be disturbed and forced to make several relocations. In
fact, the trail has already been impacted by several old pipelines and electric lines.
Current natural gas activity and a rock quarry on private land near the OLP causes
noise and visual pollution along the trail. Destructive activities like these make lasting
impacts on the ecology of the forest.
Water is a major contributing factor to the look and feel of this area. Rock Run is
considered by most to be the main highlight of the OLP. The trail meets Rock Run at the
confluence of Yellow Dog Run, then follows Rock Run upstream to the top of the
plateau. Rock Run includes house-sized boulders and flumes sculptured smooth from
the rushing water. Upstream along Yellow Dog Run lies a set of waterfalls which pour
into Yellow Dog Run. It is truly a magnificent area. The trail crosses numerous streams
providing plenty of water along all sections. A hiker’s feet are guaranteed to get wet
any day of the year! In fact, many hikers bring their fishing rods for weekend trips
along the trail.
Some sections of trail and surrounding roads were decimated by major flooding events
the last few years. It is remarkable to see the destruction caused by these powerful
storms and floods. Some roads are still closed several years later. The southern section
of the OLP, between Sharp Top Vista and Sprout Vista, provides a glimpse of how this
water reroutes stream beds, erodes mountains, and changes the shape of the landscape
altogether.
Foresters, along with PA Outdoor Corps and volunteers, have been working hard to
restore the trail to provide a better experience. I have visited this trail yearly since 2005,
and it has never been in better shape. Two new backpacking shelters were built in 2017,
adding to several great pre-existing camping areas. Volunteer trail runners keep the

The Hemlock 14.2 (Spring 2022), page 24

trail in great condition for their annual summer trail running event, the Sharp Top 25k
and 50k.
When you go grab a guidebook (for example, my Old Loggers Path Guide) and some
paper maps, as cell phone coverage is very limited in this forest. The main trailhead
parking area is located deep in the forest, so call Loyalsock State Forest beforehand to
ask for current conditions. The main trail is well used and blazed with orange paint on
the trees. Multiple side trails and old logging grades exist, but these may not be
maintained or blazed. For those who are comfortable and prepared to ramble through
the woods without getting lost, random walking throughout the forest is highly
encouraged! Whatever you do, be sure to take some time to appreciate what was once
here, what is here now, and how you can shape what will be here in the future for your
children and grandchildren to experience.
Sport Ecology Group Fills Void on Environment in Sport Management
~Dain TePoel (LHU Sport Studies Professor)
Early on in 2019, I set about designing my “post-dissertation research agenda” and
professional development plan. Sport, sustainability, and the environment had emerged
as a new and strong area of interest for me. There was only one problem. I had barely
scratched the surface of what seemed to be a limited amount of academic or popular
materials that had been published exploring the intersection of these seemingly
divergent topics.
Particularly, I wanted to explore the question of sport’s simultaneous economic and
environmental viability. Relatedly, I wanted to extend my research on the use of sport
and physical activity as a tool for social change by individuals and activist groups, and
the use of sport by charities, nonprofit organizations, and other institutions to gain
public support for pro-environmental initiatives. Looking back on these ideas, I hoped
to connect research with service to the community by focusing on the intersections of
sport and the environment at local and regional levels, though this has yet to come to
fruition. One part of this plan has had some success, however, and that is related to my
teaching goals. I wanted to bring more sport-environment topics into the classroom.
Though it’s still a work in progress, I have managed to do so through mini-units and
modules in my undergraduate classes, and more substantively, through a graduate
seminar the past couple of winter sessions.
With an admittedly limited knowledge background specifically in this area, I wasn’t
sure where to start. Luckily, it only took a few clicks and searches around the internet to
find the Sport Ecology Group (SEG) (https://www.sportecology.org/). The SEG is a

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collective of academics sharing their research on
sport and the environment with a broader public
audience and industry professionals. The group
openly states their belief that sport should be
leveraged for environmental education and
change. Such an openly “political” project is, or
was, rare in North American sport management,
but this group aims to convince sport executives
and business leaders to adopt pro-environmental
behaviors for their organizations. While evidence exists to support the claim that
industry-led efforts to “green” sports or make them “sustainable” inevitably short-shrift
the environment and public good for the economic bottom line, the Sport Ecology
Group appears to be making a real, earnest, good faith effort throughout the sport
industry.
They are also providing a tremendous service to their fellow professors like me in
higher education. I was pleased to find that there was a growing community of sport
scholars in the areas of history, sociology, and management examining ways to lessen
sport’s environmental footprint while also centering sport as a participant and potential
advocate in the climate action and environmental movements. I was even more excited
when I saw that SEG provided teaching resources available for public use on their
website. These resources include an annually updated reading list of academic articles,
and a guide for teaching sport and climate. The reading list was broken down into subtopics such as sport and environmental justice; managing sustainability in sport; fan
engagement; facility & event sustainability; attitudes & consumer behavior; and the
environmental impacts of sport. This was tremendously helpful in thinking through
how to design a course on sport and the environment.
Moreover, SEG founder Dr. Maddy Orr’s podcast, “Climate Champions,” features
conversations with sport industry practitioners who bring environmentalism, zero
waste, energy conservation, climate adaptation, ocean plastics, and climate advocacy
into the sports workplace. These episodes proved a most
invaluable teaching resource. My students have
appreciated the podcasts as a supplement to reading
articles, and I learned an incredible amount about how
climate change is affecting seasonal sports and tourism;
what sustainability efforts such as zero waste and green
transportation look like in college sports; how businesses
monetize sustainability initiatives; and how Dee Caffari, a woman who has sailed
around the world six times, is using her platform to educate and grow a network of

The Hemlock 14.2 (Spring 2022), page 26

activists within the global sailing and boating community. In the 2017-18 Ocean Race,
she led “Turn the Tide on Plastic” – the first mixed gender youth team to take part in
the race. The team had a strong sustainability message, gained a lot of attention, and
revealed that there are micro plastics present in every ocean across the globe.
When I set out to increase my teaching and research efforts at the nexus of sport, the
environment, politics, and society, I knew there were like-minded people out there
working on these issues. I just thought they were scattered about and not really
connected in any sort of meaningful way. What I found out instead was that those of us
interested in this were approaching, if not entirely reaching, the status of a critical mass.
The Sport Ecology Group has emerged as a legitimate subdiscipline in sport
management, one that is certainly still on the periphery but making more and more of
an impact. When I first discovered their website, their team consisted of the founder, a
co-director, and three initial members. They now have over 20 members, a six-member
advisory board, and special initiatives for graduate and undergraduate students.
The SEG aligns with the goals and mission of LHU’s Environmental Focus Group to
develop a deeper sense of place, stewardship of natural resources, meaningful outdoor
experiences, and appreciation for regional heritage. As an early-career teacher and
scholar, I am grateful and indebted to both groups for generating more awareness and
expanding opportunities for the development of coursework that proactively supports
the education of current and future professionals working in sport and recreation.
The recognition of the natural environment’s influence and role in sport is an idea
whose time has come. Humans are part of nature and not separate from it. Similarly,
the physical environment, landscapes, air, and water take an active role in human
activities like sports.
In the future, the SEG might expand its efforts in support of global movements for
indigenous rights, climate action, environmental justice, and environmental protection.
Such projects would seek to document and account for the environmental harms
generated throughout sport, but perhaps as importantly, they would formulate
historically informed alternatives and strategies to mitigate them. Through an
examination of sport’s environmental past and present, the SEG may contribute
narratives that help to inspire, shape, and construct different forms of sport necessary
for the uncertain future.
Environmental Focus Group
Bob Myers (Chair), Jeff Walsh, Elizabeth Gruber, Joby Topper, Michael McSkimming,
Heather Bechtold, Dain TePoel, Md. Khalequzzaman, Tara Remick, Barrie Overton,
Todd Nesbitt, Jamie Walker, Amy Kutay, LaKeisha Knarr, Stephen Lee, Lynn Bruner,
and David Graefe. The committee is charged with promoting and supporting activities,

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experiences, and structures that encourage students, faculty, and staff to develop a
stronger sense of place for Lock Haven University and central Pennsylvania. Such a
sense of place involves a stewardship of natural resources (environmentalism),
meaningful outdoor experiences, and appreciation for the heritage of the region.