History
Speaking Waters is in the heart of a magical area of the world with a rich natural history. The protected highlands of New York were first formed by glaciers cutting steep-walled, northeast-to-southwest valleys, creating the weather conditions for abundant run-off waters to feed a large, expanding northern hardwood forest. These hundreds of difficult-to-traverse, steep valleys created many biodiverse pockets of protected habitats for animals, plants, and humans to easily flourish within. Native American tribes of the Algonquin and later Iroquois were the first known to share the lands surrounding Speaking Waters as hunting and gathering grounds.
Native Americans
For thousands of years, our lush hardwood forests have supported ever-expanding amounts of life, contributing to the creation of the characters and mythology that transcend it. The region has had many larger-than-life Native American figures, such as Hiawatha, who co-founded the Iroquois (Haundenosaunee) Confederacy which brought peace and prosperity to the region, and Manaho, who lived with her father, the mighty Chief Schenevus, a mere two miles away from us in what is now the village of Schenevus. Legends of these figures and many more are told at the Iroquois Indian Museum just thirty miles from us near Cobleskill, NY.
Speaking Waters’ Grounds
We are located on Crumhorn Mountain, reportedly called “stony hill” by the local Iroquois. The Europeans agreed with the name when they arrived here in the 1800s, considering it too hard to grow anything on the rocky grounds and ultimately worthless. The waterway that splits Speaking Waters’ grounds is curiously called Potato Creek. No one knows for sure where that name comes from, although our local librarian theorizes that it might stem from the local Swedes’ attempt to grow potatoes along the creek bed.
Hops, Dairy, and Lumber
From the middle to the end of the 19th century, Central New York was the hops capital of America (for beer production), as ideal weather conditions encouraged mass growing of the cash crop. In 1880, New York produced 21 million pounds of dried hops, which was the majority of the U.S. crop. In part due to a killer fungus in the early 1900s that brought about the decline of hops production in central New York, dairy began its rise as one of the chief agricultural commodities of the region, joining lumber as an integral part of upstate New York’s industry.
Jorgensen’s Lumber Mill, active up until the late 2010s, was established on the Jorgensen family farm that is now the site of Speaking Waters, primarily milling oak and hemlock trees that grow abundantly in the Susquehanna Valley. Lumber has been one of the main financial crops of Central New York from the 1800s on, as it was easy to float the lumber 444 miles down the Susquehanna River to the Chesapeake Bay, serving the Baltimore and Washington, D.C. areas.
We hope that Speaking Waters is able to contribute to this rich natural history. Let’s see what the waters have to share with us…
The Healing Waters
The Iroquois have a touching story of how a brave of their race once saved his wife and his people from extinction. - by Lewis Spence
It was winter, the snow lay thickly on the ground, and there was sorrow in the encampment, for with the cold weather a dreadful plague had visited the people. There was not one but had lost some relative, and in some cases whole families had been swept away. Among those who had been most sorely bereaved was Nekumonta, a handsome young brave, whose parents, brothers, sisters, and children had died one by one before his eyes, the while he was powerless to help them. And now his wife, the beautiful Shanewis, was weak and ill. The dreaded disease had laid its awful finger on her brow, and she knew that she must shortly bid her husband farewell and take her departure for the place of the dead. Already she saw her dead friends beckoning to her and inviting her to join them, but it grieved her terribly to think that she must leave her young husband in sorrow and loneliness. His despair was piteous to behold when she broke the sad news to him, but after the first outburst of grief he bore up bravely, and determined to fight the plague with all his strength.
So he made his wife comfortable on her couch, covering her with warm furs, and then, embracing her gently, he set out on his difficult mission.
“I must find the healing herbs which the Great Manitou has planted,” said he.
“Wherever they may be, I must find them.”
All day he sought eagerly in the forest for the healing herbs, but everywhere the snow lay deep, and not so much as a blade of grass was visible. When night came he crept along the frozen ground, thinking that his sense of smell might aid him in his search. Thus for three days and nights he wandered through the forest, over hills and across rivers, in a vain attempt to discover the means of curing the malady of Shanewis.
When he met a little scurrying rabbit in the path he cried eagerly :
“Tell me, where shall I find the herbs which Manitou has planted ?”
But the rabbit hurried away without reply, for he knew that the herbs had not yet risen above the ground, and he was very sorry for the brave.
Nekumonta came by and by to the den of a big bear, and of this animal also he asked the same question. But the bear could give him no reply, and he was obliged to resume his weary journey. He consulted all the beasts of the forest in turn, but from none could he get any help. How could they tell him, indeed, that his search was hopeless?
On the third night he was very weak and ill, for he had tasted no food since he had first set out, and he was numbed with cold and despair. He stumbled over a withered branch hidden under the snow, and so tired was he that he lay where he fell, and immediately went to sleep. All the birds and the beasts, all the multitude of creatures that inhabit the forest, came to watch over his slumbers. They remembered his kindness to them in former days, how he had never slain an animal unless he really needed it for food or clothing, how he had loved and protected the trees and the flowers. Their hearts were touched by his courageous fight for Shanewis, and they pitied his misfortunes. All that they could do to aid him they did. They cried to the Great Manitou to save his wife from the plague which held her, and the Great Spirit heard the manifold whispering and responded to their prayers.
While Nekumonta lay asleep there came to him the messenger of Manitou, and he dreamed.
In his dream he saw his beautiful Shanewis, pale and thin, but as lovely as ever, and as he looked she smiled at him, and sang a strange, sweet song, like the murmuring of a distant waterfall.
It really was a waterfall he heard. In musical language it called him by name, saying: “Seek us, O Nekumonta, and when you find us Shanewis shall live. We are the Healing Waters of the Great Manitou.”
Nekumonta awoke with the words of the song still ringing in his ears. Starting to his feet, he looked in every direction ; but there was no water to be seen, though the murmuring sound of a waterfall was distinctly audible. He fancied he could even distinguish words in it.
"Release us!” it seemed to say.
“Set us free, and Shanewis shall be saved!”
Nekumonta searched in vain for the waters. Then it suddenly occurred to him that they must be underground, directly under his feet. Seizing branches, stones, flints, he dug feverishly into the earth. So arduous was the task that before it was finished he was completely exhausted. But at last the hidden spring was disclosed, and the waters were rippling merrily down the vale, carrying life and happiness wherever they went. The young man bathed his aching limbs in the healing stream, and in a moment he was well and strong.
Raising his hands, he gave thanks to Manitou. With eager fingers he made a jar of clay, and baked it in the fire, so that he might carry life to Shanewis. As he pursued his way homeward with his treasure his despair was changed to rejoicing and he sped like the wind.
When he reached his village his companions ran to greet him. Their faces were sad and hopeless, for the plague still raged. However, Nekumonta directed them to the Healing Waters and inspired them with new hope. Shanewis he found on the verge of the Shadow-land, and scarcely able to murmur a farewell to her husband. But Nekumonta did not listen to her broken adieux. He forced some of the Healing Water between her parched lips, and bathed her hands and her brow till she fell into a gentle slumber. When she awoke the fever had left her, she was serene and smiling, and Nekumonta’s heart was filled with a great happiness.
The tribe was for ever rid of the dreaded plague, and the people gave to Nekumonta the title of ‘Chief of the Healing Waters,’ so that all might know that it was he who had brought them the gift of Manitou..