FOODWAYS, COMMENSALITY AND NIPMUC IDENTITY:

AN ANALYSIS OF FAUNAL REMAINS FROM SARAH BOSTON’S FARMSTEAD,

GRAFTON, MA, 1790-1840

A Thesis Presented

by

AMÉLIE ALLARD

Submitted to the Office of Graduate Studies, University of Massachusetts Boston,

in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

August 2010

Historical Archaeology Program

© 2010 by Amélie Allard All rights reserved

iv

ABSTRACT

FOODWAYS, COMMENSALITY AND NIPMUC IDENTITY:

AN ANALYSIS OF FAUNAL REMAINS FROM SARAH BOSTON’S FARMSTEAD,

GRAFTON, MA, 1790-1840

August 2010

Amélie Allard, B.A., Université Laval M.A., University of Massachusetts Boston

Directed by Professor David B. Landon

The Sarah Boston Farmstead site, the remains of a late 18th to early 19th-century

Nipmuc household, is situated in what is now Grafton, Massachusetts. The head of the

household, Sarah “Boston” Phillips, was the fourth of four generations of Nipmuc women

to inherit and settle on the Muckamaug parcel, the tract of land that was allotted to the

family in 1728. Previous studies have suggested that Sarah Boston’s house may have

served as a locus for the creation of a Native, Nipmuc identity, as well as a gathering

place for the members of the community wherein they could eat, drink and converse

about their daily lives and concerns. Through the analysis of faunal remains recovered on

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the site, the present study aims to not only provide rare information on Nipmuc diet and

foodways during this period, but also explore whether the faunal remains support the idea

of the site as a place of communal gathering. This study further considers the historical

context and ramifications of the adoption of animal husbandry by Native people of New

England in general and by the inhabitants of the site in particular, and argues that raising

livestock was for Native Americans a politically- and culturally-charged decision

influenced by a number of interrelated historical circumstances, such as the pressures of

land encroachment and missionary agendas, the cycle of debt, land sale and indentured

servitude, and intermarriages between Native women and African American men. This

leads to the examination of the relationship between food, foodways and the process of

identity formation and considers the ways in which food and related daily practices

communicate Nipmuc identity on the site. The notion of commensality is particularly

useful in this enterprise, as it encompasses the idea of a group of people gathering

together to eat and drink in order to create a sense of identity and belonging.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank those who made this thesis possible: the FQRSC for

awarding me with the monetary support that has allowed me to complete this project

promptly, the UMass faculty and Fiske Center scholars who have supported and

encouraged me during my two wonderful years at UMass. Also thanks to Heather Law

for her willingness to help and share her knowledge of the site and its history. I would

like to extend a particular acknowledgment to the members of my committee: professors

David Landon, Steve Mrozowski and Steve Silliman, who saw in me a potential that I

was not aware that I possessed and who (perhaps unknowingly) pushed me to try and

reach it. I am heartily grateful for your patience, trust in my abilities and great support.

Lastly, I would like to thank my family: I couldn’t have done it without your love,

constant and unconditional encouragement and support, or without those countless hours

spent chatting via internet video calls so that I wouldn’t feel too far away from home.

Thank you.

J’aimerais remercier tous ceux qui ont rendu possible l’achèvement de cette

thèse : le FQRSC, pour m’avoir attribué le support monétaire me permettant de terminer

ce projet rapidement, les membres de la faculté d’anthropologie de UMass Boston ainsi

que les chercheurs du Fiske Center qui m’ont soutenue et encouragée tout au long de

mes deux années passées à UMass. Merci à Heather Law qui n’a pas hésité à m’assister

ni à partager ses connaissances du site et de son histoire. J’aimerais particulièrement

remercier les membres de mon comité d’évaluation : David Landon, Steve Mrozowski et

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Steve Silliman, qui ont vu en moi un potentiel que je ne me connaissais pas et qui ont su

me pousser (sans doute à leur insu) à me dépasser et à atteindre ce potentiel. Je vous suis

reconnaissante pour votre patience, votre confiance en mes habiletés et votre soutien. À

ma famille : je n’aurais pas pu arriver là où j’en suis sans votre amour, vos

encouragements et votre support inconditionnel, ni sans toutes ces innombrables heures

passées à jaser via internet qui m’ont permis de ne pas me sentir trop loin de chez moi.

Merci.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ................................................................................................. vi

LIST OF FIGURES AND TABLES ...................................................................................x

CHAPTER Page

1. INTRODUCTION .........................................................................................1

2. FOOD, IDENTITY AND PRACTICE: A THEORETICAL OVERVIEW ..6 a. Anthropology of food: a historical overview.....................................7 b. Food as the expression of identity .....................................................9 c. Foodways as daily practices.............................................................18 d. Food at the intersection of identities and practices..........................21

3. SARAH BOSTON’S FARMSTEAD AND ANIMAL HUSBANDRY IN NEW ENGLAND ...............................................................................23

a. Overview of the Nipmuc People’s history in Massachusetts...........24 b. The “Four Sarahs”............................................................................29 c. Animal husbandry in New England .................................................39 d. Concluding thoughts ........................................................................49

4. ARCHAEOLOGICAL INVESTIGATIONS AT HASSANAMESIT WOODS AND THE MUCKAMAUG SITE ...........................................50

a. The Hassanamesit Woods Project................................................... 50 b. Archaeological work....................................................................... 52 c. Interpretations ................................................................................. 57 d. 2006-2007 Material Culture Analysis............................................. 59 e. Conclusion....................................................................................... 62

5. METHODS AND RESULTS ......................................................................63 a. Methods and analysis ...................................................................... 63 b. Taphonomy ..................................................................................... 67 c. Taxonomic representation............................................................... 73 d. Skeletal Representation................................................................... 76 e. Butchery marks ............................................................................... 81 f. Ageing and kill-off patterns............................................................. 87 g. Discussion ....................................................................................... 91 h. Conclusion .................................................................................... 100

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CHAPTER Page

6. SARAH BOSTON’S FOODWAYS, NIPMUC IDENTITY AND COMMENSALITY ......................................................................101

a. Introduction ................................................................................... 101 b. Domestic and wild animals: hybridity, choices and routinized

practices..................................................................................... 104 c. Sharing meals, sharing identities................................................... 107 d. Conclusion .................................................................................... 112

REFERENCE LIST .........................................................................................................115

x

LIST OF FIGURES AND TABLES

Figure Page

1. Map showing Eliot's Praying Towns (Cogley 1999: xiv).................................26

2. Sketch of Sarah Boston's house from Fiske local history (Fiske #11, [n.d.] 6).33

3. Natick's bow-and-arrow cattle brand (Silverman 2003: 521). ..........................44

4. Map showing artifact densities on the Muckamaug parcel (Gary 2005). .........54

5. A.ELLIS tag recovered in unit B4 ....................................................................55

6. Overview of Sarah Boston's Farmstead in 2008, from NE...............................55

7. The Muckamaug site in 2009, divided into blocks and 2x2m units. ................56

8. Map showing the cellar foundations in units B5 and E2. .................................57

9. Detail of the C block excavation.......................................................................58

10. Number of artifacts per type from 2006 (red), 2007 (blue) and combined (green) seasons (Law et al. 2008). ................................................................60

11. Flaked decanter base .......................................................................................60

12. Steatite bowl....................................................................................................61

13. Excavation map showing the proportion of faunal remains per unit. .............66

14. Bones showing traces of carnivore (left) and rodent (right) gnawing. ...........69

15. Bones showing the effects of weathering. ......................................................70

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Figure Page

16. Effects of taphonomic agents inside and outside the known cellar foundations ...........................................................................71

17. Representation of identified mammals per category. .....................................73

18. Cattle skeletal representation by anatomical region. ......................................79

19. Medium mammal skeletal representation by anatomical region. ...................80

20. Pig skeletal representation by anatomical region............................................80

21. General location, frequency and type of butchery marks for cattle. ...............84

22. General location, frequency and type of butchery marks for caprines. ..........85

23. General location, frequency and type of butchery marks for pigs. .................86

24. Relative age profiles for cattle. .......................................................................88

25. Caprine age profiles based on tooth wear and tooth emergence sequence. ....89

26. Caprine age profiles based on epiphyseal fusion............................................90

27. Combined relative age profiles for pigs..........................................................90

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Table Page

1. Incidence of bone surface modifications for each taxonomic category .............68

2. Taxonomic representation of the Sarah Boston Farmstead assemblage ...... 77-78

3. Number of domestic animals recorded in the 1747 and 1776 valuations ........110

1

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

In our society, food is at the heart of our lives, whether considering the impact of

eating habits on our personal health or the broader political and environmental issues

related to food production and consumption. Such concerns are a product of our time, and

so cannot be directly transposed to past societies; however, eating is a physiological need

that must be fulfilled virtually every day and as such is a practice common to all. The

relatively recent interest in food and eating habits in anthropological and archaeological

studies has shown that while eating is a biological need, human beings also eat within a

culture; eating habits are culturally-learned practices and laden with symbolism as the

products of inculcated codes of conduct (Bryant et al. 2003: 87; Murcott 1983: 1). Since

this cultural turn in the study of food, the research into past foodways has grown steadily

in archaeological research. Foodways, or the study of those practices related to the

production-procurement, preparation, distribution, consumption and disposal of food, is a

concept used by archaeologists to move beyond mere diet studies and explore the ways in

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which food embodies broader social relations and identities (Bowen 1996; Landon 1996).

Archaeological remains, and in particular the study of faunal remains, provide an

valuable record of what was consumed and can thus be related to those food practices

that serve as a conduit for the expression of social identities, be they at the individual

level or at the level of the community (Bowen 1994).

The present study constitutes such a research project through the analysis of the

faunal remains recovered during four years of archaeological excavations at Sarah

Boston’s Farmstead, a Nipumc domestic site from the late 18th and early 19th centuries

located in Grafton, Massachusetts. The recent archaeological investigations conducted at

the site are part of the Hassanamesit Woods Project, a collaborative effort between the

Town of Grafton, the Nipmuc Tribal Nation and the Fiske Memorial Center for

Archaeological Research at the University of Massachusetts Boston, to create a history of

the town in which the Nipmuc presence in the landscape and historical records can be

highlighted and conveyed to the public (Law 2008: 61; Law et al. 2008: 3). Beginning in

earnest in 2005, archaeologists have surveyed and excavated the Hassanamesit Woods

property in order to bring to light its prehistoric and historic resources, and the effort has

proven fruitful. The Sarah Boston Farmstead site was identified in 2005 after extensive

archaeological surveys, which revealed an area of high artifact density that correlated

with historical maps and documents pertaining to this household (Gary 2005). The

farmstead in question is located on the Muckamaug parcel, a parcel of land that was

successively headed by five historically-documented generations of Nipmuc women

between 1728 and the 1850s. The archaeological and documentary research has allowed

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scholars to date the actual occupation of the farmstead starting around 1790, when Sarah

Burnee and her husband Boston Philips built or extensively repaired the house, and

ending with the death of their daughter, Sarah “Boston” Philips, in 1837 (Law et al.

2008). The recovery of a high number of glass tableware and a great variety in ceramic

vessel forms has led archaeologists to interpret the site as more than a farmstead, but also

as a place of communal gathering, playing a role similar to that of an informal tavern in

allowing members of a group to communicate with each other over food and drinks (Law

2008; Pezzarossi 2008).

Despite the growing interest in past foodways and the increasing literature on the

anthropology of food, little research has been done on New England Native American

diet and foodways during the colonial period, especially those that date to the late 18th

century or 19th century. The present study thus aims to add valuable data to this corpus,

and provide some insight on Nipmuc diet - and particularly meat diet - during this period.

Linking diet to broader issues of the expression of identity through food and eating habits

is also a major goal of this project, so that it also aims to answer the following questions:

in what ways do the foodways identified at Sarah Boston’s farmstead and its inhabitants’

adoption of animal husbandry communicate Nipmuc identity in the late 18th and early

19th centuries? And can the faunal remains support the interpretation put forth that Sarah

Boston’s house also served as a place of communal gathering? Using the data recovered

from the examination of the animal bones found on the site and a contextualization based

on primary and secondary sources, this project provides initial answers to these questions.

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The first chapter presents the ways in which social scientists have theorized the

relationship between food and identity over the last few decades. Because food-related

activities must be repeated on a daily basis and individuals do not always critically reflect

on them, they are part of those practices that, Bourdieu tells us, embody habitus and have

the potential to communicate a sense of belonging when they are recognized as a

common factor by members of a society or group (Bourdieu 1977; Atalay and Hastorf

2006). Identity is a complex notion that is better conceptualized in the first chapter, but

generally anthropologists have argued that food and food-related practices can serve to

either reinforce social relations that are based on social differentiation – in the case of

ethnicity and racism, for instance – (Appadurai 1981; Bryant et al. 2003; Dietler 2007) or

to strengthen ties within a group through commensality, which can be defined as the

gathering of people to consume food and/or drinks together as a means of solidifying

social ties (Grignon 2001: 24). Those two components of group identity are closely

intertwined; in fact one cannot subscribe to the manners and norms of a group without

forsaking others, thus amplifying differences, especially in colonial contexts where social

relations are deeply imbued with power. In any case, food theorists suggest that food can

enable both facets simultaneously.

The second and third chapters serve to contextualize the Sarah Boston Farmstead

site by presenting the history of the Nipmuc people after the arrival of the English in New

England and their dealings with domestic livestock and animal husbandry, and providing

the archaeological background to the site, respectively. The history of the Nipmuc and

their negotiation of the colonial order especially highlights the stories of the “Four

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Sarahs,” the four Nipmuc women who successively inherited and occupied the

Muckamaug parcel. Their respective households are relatively well-documented in

Grafton local documents and lore (generally obtained through the American Antiquarian

Society in Worcester) and some of their dealings with colonial officials were preserved to

this day (most can be found at the Massachusetts Archives), which provides rich

information on their lives within the colonial world.

The fourth chapter details the zooarchaeological methods used for the analysis of

the Sarah Boston Farmstead faunal remains and the results that it produced; taxonomic

representation, skeletal part representation, age data and the analyses of butchery marks

and other bone modifications are then used to create a picture of the meat-related

foodways at the site, including procurement, preparation, consumption and disposal, as

well as provide some insight into the taphonomy of the site.

The last chapter integrates the previous chapters into an interpretation of the

foodways at the farmstead. In this chapter, my goal is to answer the questions posited

here and relate the results to broader issues of Nipmuc identity and change and

persistence in colonial contexts. Based on the definition of foodways as encompassing

not only the diet but also the social relations created and maintained through food, this

chapter is divided into two sections: the first focuses on the cultural implications behind

what was eaten, and the second emphasizes the how and with whom, in order to better

comprehend food as an expression of Nipmuc identity.

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CHAPTER 2

FOOD, IDENTITY AND PRACTICE: A THEORETICAL OVERVIEW

Food, cuisine and eating habits are today more than ever at the focal point of our

everyday lives, whether we are academic observers of our society or simply individuals

trying to live healthy lives. It may thus come as a surprise that anthropologists and

archaeologists only started theorizing food habits and incorporating them into their

analyses of past societies in the 1960s and 1970s. However, the subject is today one of

the main threads of anthropological research. The interest in food and eating habits has

coincided with the increasing focus that we have given food in our everyday lives. Food

and foodways have also become an integral part of archaeological research, especially as

most of domestic refuse found on archaeological sites in fact correspond to practices that

are in some ways related to food preparation, serving or refuse discard (Pearson 2003: 1).

Faunal remains, despite potential problems in preservation, produce a particularly good

record of meat consumption in the past (Bowen 1996: 90) and, as remnants of redundant

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daily practices, can provide insight into past social relations and identities. The following

chapter thus endeavors to present how the anthropology of food has evolved over the last

few decades, but more importantly to describe how social scientists now conceptualize

the close relationship between food and the notion of identity as well as the

archaeologists’ integration of foodways into sociological theories of practice.

a. Anthropology of food: a historical overview

Food plays an important role in people’s lives, and most authors agree that such

importance is born out of food’s dual nature: on one hand, food is a basic and constant

physiological need that is fundamental to human beings’ survival, while also being

significant as a cultural symbol, as a means of communicating and embodying social

relations (Dietler 2007: 223; Hastorf and Weismantel 2007: 308; Murcott 1983: 1;

Pearson 2003: 1). Eating habits are more than mere intake of fuel; they are culturally-

learned practices and the results of inculcated codes of conduct, which, at the cultural

scale, influence how a society produces, prepares and distributes the food needed to

sustain the human body (Bryant et al. 2003: 87; Murcott 1983: 1). Learning how food is

obtained, who prepares it, where, when and with whom it is shared can therefore provide

valuable insight into past social relations (Farb and Armelagos 1980: 4).

This cultural aspect of food arose partly as a reaction to biological and nutritional

science-based studies, which considered food practices in a purely biological framework

according to which food intake (i.e. calories and nutrients) was related to subsistence

economies and evolutionary adaptive mechanisms (Pearson 2003: 1; Twiss 2007: 4). In

the 1960s and 1970s, structuralists started incorporating food into their analyses in a

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different way. Starting with Le cru et le cuit (1964), Lévi-Strauss demonstrated that

human attitudes towards plants and animals were related to broader cultural and

cosmological orders, whose structures could be revealed through dualist analyses of

myths. Food-related oppositions such as raw/cooked, boiled/roasted, fresh/rotten and

their particular order in a myth could express views about how nature/culture, the

ultimate dichotomy, was conceptualized (Lévi-Strauss 1964). From this originated the

idea that food is not only good to eat, but also “good to think” (in Farb and Armelagos

1980: 104), as well as the notion that an anthropologist who knows what the members of

a society eat already has taken a major step into understanding them (Farb and Armelagos

1980: 104).

Similarly, Barthes (1961) adopted a linguistic analogy in addressing questions of

food; he perceived food as a “system of communication, a body of images, a code of

conducts,” in other words as a sign whose signification must be understood at the level of

its transformation and consumption (Barthes 1961: 979-981). Furthermore, he postulated

that food, as a signifier of broad social environments and situations, also has a

commemorative component that is closely associated with nationalism and the

reinforcing of an idealized past (Barthes 1961: 983; Caplan 1997: 2).

Influenced by both Lévi-Strauss and Barthes, Mary Douglas also argued for

greater attention to the social aspect of food and eating in anthropological work (Meigs

1988: 341). Through the development of her approach of taboos and prohibition (Douglas

1966), she examined the relations between indigenous classifications of food and eating

and demonstrated that those things that are considered as taboo are those that are

9

anomalous within their category (Meigs 1988: 341). In her 1972 analysis of the notion of

meal in Britain (Douglas 1997), she theorized that meals were constituted in a structured

manner, and that the constitution of a meal can reveal broader cultural views on what

constitutes food and consequently on the symbolic representation of a particular social

order (Caplan 1997: 2).

These influential works have demonstrated that culture plays a significant role in

determining what is classified as food, and that symbolic meaning can be ascribed to food

and eating practices, but it was not until the 1980s that anthropologists started engaging

with the subject further to explore the relationship between food and identity (Caplan

1997: 2-3; Scholliers 2001: 7). Within this view, practices can only be understood in their

historical contexts and are tightly intertwined in social relations of power, notions of

inclusion and exclusion, and cultural ideas about classifications (Caplan 1997: 3, 8).

b. Food as the expression of identity

A definition of identity

The notion of identity is a complex one, and social scientists have spent a lot of

effort in trying to define such an abstract concept. For the purpose of this study, identity

is defined following post-processual trends, that is to say in terms of contextual and ever-

changing social identities. Most scholars acknowledge that we all have a number of social

identities, both self-ascribed and ascribed by others, and that these social identities are

constantly negotiated through our relationships to other individuals and groups (Meskell

2007: 24). Identity formation is an ongoing process through which our self-definition is

10

constantly in interaction with our relational identity, that is to say the identity that is

created through our relationships with others, so that as we move within our social world,

we continually shift affiliation from one position to another depending on the contexts of

interaction (Casella and Fowler 2005: 1-3). The generation of self is thus a complex

process that is temporally situated and socially nuanced, but it is also multidimensional,

created at the intersection of gender, age, status, ethnicity, and class, which all affect

identity at any given time (Casella and Fowler 2005: 2; Meskell 2007: 24).

Identity both shapes and is shaped by cultural practices and experience (Twiss

2007:1) and the individual’s lived experience and use of the body as a way to express

identity has been the focus of recent theories of embodiment. Shanks and Tilley, for

example, concentrate on the use of the body as a framework by which individuals live

through their social world and produce a sense of self through the experience of the world

(Hodder and Hutson 2005: 115). Joyce (2005) has demonstrated that in using body

ornaments, the body’s surface becomes the point of articulation between the interior self

and the exterior society (Joyce 2005: 144). Archaeologically, this objectification of the

body is done through an attribution of meaning through the use of body ornaments or by

studying visual images of the body as proxy for living bodies (Joyce 2005: 144).

Therefore, the archaeology of embodiment considers the ways that body practices and

representations worked together to produce experiences of embodied personhood and

describe the body as a site of the articulation of differentiation along lines of sex, age,

ethnicity and power (Joyce 2005: 149).

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The process of identity-formation is also multiscalar, in the sense that identity is

not created merely at the individual level, but also at the multiple levels of the community

(Insoll 2007: 14). The relational identity, or the self that is created through the

observation of similarities and differences with others, is the pivotal point of group

identity. Identity has therefore meaning beyond that of the individual; it can also refer to

a person’s own definition in terms of group membership or the identification of a person

with “the norms, manners and ideals of a group” (Scholliers 2001: 5), in other words,

expressing a sense of belonging or exclusion to a particular group. This group identity

can either be based on social differentiation, as in the case of ethnicity, or on a sense of

commonalities that functions as the basis for group identity - such as nationalism.

The notion of ethnicity can be defined as the creation of group of people who

share a common identity as a result of commonalities, be they a common ancestry, region

or nation of origin, language or customs (Bryant et al. 2003: 236). It implies an

opposition between the individual, the group and “others,” and involves the negotiation

of differences and sameness (Meskell 2007: 25). It is a power-laden dialogue between the

knowledge that people have of themselves and what other groups ascribe them to be,

which creates the differences and conflicts on which the concept of ethnicity is founded

(Voss 2008: 1). Jones (2007) refers to ethnic groups as “fluid self-defining systems which

are embedded in economic and political relations, and are therefore manipulated and

mobilized by agenda” (Jones 2007: 48). Identity in such cases is thus imbued with

politics and power relations that tend to be unequal between different ethnic groups.

12

Likewise, the interaction with others in colonial contexts is riddled with unequal

power relations between dominant and dominated individuals and groups. In such cases,

the power-laden relationship with the “other” serves as a basis for the creation of both

dominant and dominated identities (Dietler 2007). The colonial self thus emerges through

the dialectical encounter with the other and in some cases can be manipulated to suit

political or economical agendas (Wolski 2001: 219). Colonial identities therefore also

possess the mutable character singular to the notion of identity, except that in such cases

the fluid nature of identities can be used as a tactic of the subordinate to deflect power

and manipulate colonial agendas (Wolski 2001: 223).

Food as expression of identity

We have now established that identity-formation is a dynamic, multidimensional

and relational process, but how does it relate to food and eating habits? The relationship

between food and identity is both evident and ambiguous; old sayings such as Brillat-

Savarin’s “tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are” (1994 [1825]: 13) speak

to this evident relationship, but it is only recently that social scientists have theorized the

ways in which food and foodways can serve to express identity.

The relationship between food and identity is primarily based on Fishler’s

principle of incorporation (1988), or the action by which “we send a food across the

frontier between the world and the self, between ‘outside’ and ‘inside’ our body”

(Fischler 1988: 279). This principle of incorporation touches upon the nature of the very

person, because as people eat they literally become what they eat, which constructs both

the person and food as the ultimate attempt to control the body, the mind, and ultimately

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identity (Fischler 1988: 280). In other words, “food must be transformed, not only in

actuality but also within our psyches, into something culturally appropriate before it can

be ingested: it is the ultimate nexus of nature and culture in our world” (Hastorf and

Weismantel 2007: 310). The principle of incorporation is also the basis for collective

identity as food is a central component of the sense of collective belonging (Fischler

1988: 280). People eating similar food are deemed trustworthy, good, familiar and safe,

whereas people eating unusual food can provoke a sense of distrust, suspicion and even

disgust (Scholliers 2001: 8). The absorption of food “incorporates the eater into a

culinary system and therefore into a group which practices it” (Fischler 1988: 281).

Beyond this principle, the relationship between food and identity is not quite as

straightforward since, as we have seen, social identities are constantly changing, so that

similarly the “significance of food and foodways are changeable, contested, polysemic

and powerful” (Twiss 2007: 3). Foodways must therefore be understood within their

broader historical context and sets of cultural values (Scholliers 2001: 4). Most scholars

have worked on the ways in which food expresses specific and separate dimensions of

identity such as gender, socio-economic status and ethnicity, but the focus of this study is

on the ways in which food and foodways serve to communicate group identity, which can

be either based on social differentiation, as in colonial and multiethnic contexts, or social

solidarity through commensality (or the act of consuming food and/or drinks as a group

in order to solidify social ties). The line between the two is very fine and highly

contextual, as social differentiation and solidarity cannot exist without the other, but food

can serve to express both in different ways.

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Food as a marker of social differentiation: colonial and multiethnic contexts

At the basis of colonial and multiethnic relationships is social differentiation,

which creates a “we” that both brings people together and differentiates them from

others. As we have seen, what is eaten, as well as the preparation and disposal of meals,

can provide a conduit for individuals’ membership to a group (while being excluded from

others) and in this way assert their social identity (Farb and Armelagos 1980: 6; Hastorf

and Weismantel 2007: 318). In multiethnic and colonial contexts where issues of power

are constantly negotiated, food represents the “ultimate locus of identity, conformity and

resistance,” since even those who appear powerless exercise choices in food preparation

and consumption (Smith 2006: 480). Hiding or showing off ethnic foodways can

therefore become an expression of social differentiation based on submission or

aggression (Hastorf and Weismantel 2007: 320; Pearson 2003: 9). There is also a political

component to the social relations that are produced and negotiated through food, and

Hastorf and Weismantel (2007: 317) state that sometimes meals “express, reinforce, or

contest existing political and social relations,” which is especially relevant if we consider

the meal as more than the consumption of food, but also its production and distribution

and ultimately the disposal of its remnants (Bryant et al. 2003: 190). Indeed, if we take a

“biography of the object” approach to food (Kopytoff 1986), the history of a particular

foodstuff - its production and procurement, its preparation, its consumption and its

discard – will highlight a multitude of interconnected social relations between the agents

that have participated closely or not to the food’s history and have given it meaning

throughout. And these social relations will often be imbued with power and politics.

15

At first glance, foodways may appear as some of the most conservative and

persistent aspects of culture (Fischler 1988: 280), but this observation requires some

nuance. As much as foodways can become a symbolic representation of a belonging to a

particular group, examples of ethnic groups appropriating alien foodstuff and turning

them into their own sense of identity (for instance the Italian’s use of the tomato or the

Irish’s association with the potato) show that foodways, just like culture, are constantly

being negotiated and transformed (Dietler 2007: 224). Through the process of constant

production and reproduction of culture through practices, foreign food and habits have

the potential of being incorporated into routinized and pre-existing practices via their

daily consumption and/or gradual insertion (Dietler 2007: 224). Colonial and multiethnic

contexts provide people with an alternative set of ways of thinking about food and diet,

so that in face of new possibilities people can choose to adopt some of the alien food-

related practices (Bryant et al. 2003: 235). The emphasis must be put on individuals’

choices, as this process involves the intentional selection of some food or habits and

rejection of others according to pre-existing values or practices as well as considerations

of the future (Dietler 2007: 224).

Food as expression of solidarity: commensality and belonging

We have now established that food can serve as an expression of social

differentiation, which is based on perceived differences in identities that are both self-

ascribed and/or ascribed by others. As much as food can serve to sustain relations that

“are characterized by rank, distance and segmentation,” so they can serve to indicate and

construct social relations characterized by “equality, intimacy or solidarity” (Appadurai

16

1981: 496). In fact, if one characteristic pertaining to the relationship between food and

social relations appears as self-evident today, it is the primary role of food in initiating

and maintaining relationships and its use in conveying what kind of relationship is

desired or achieved (Bryant et al. 2003: 191; Farb and Armelagos 1980: 4). After all, in

our contemporary society, sharing a late night drink can have different connotations than

having afternoon coffee, just as a breakfast meeting conveys different social relations

than a family meal. One must be careful not to apply such codes to past societies, but the

fact remains that food practices can serve as a type of language that guides social

relations and encodes patterns of conducts (Bryant et al. 2003: 191). Because food brings

people together, it can be used as means to solidify social ties, build and maintain

relationships and promote common interests (Bryant et al. 2003: 191).

This corresponds to the concept of commensality, which refers to the gathering of

people to consume food and/or drinks together as a means of solidifying social ties

(Grignon 2001: 24). In anthropology, this concept goes back to Mauss who, through his

theory of reciprocity and gift-exchange, focused on how food was used to develop social

relationships of exchange and alliance between various individuals, and ultimately to

bind them together in a relationship of mutual participation and unity (in Meigs 1988:

351). More recently, Grignon’s piece on commensality (2001) stressed the importance of

commensality as a means to activate and tighten internal solidarity, but also suggested

that this unification happens because commensality first allows for the limits of the group

to be redrawn, its internal hierarchies to be restored and redefined (Grignon 2001: 24).

These internal relations can come to life through the consumption of foods and drinks

17

that encourage communicative exaltation (such as alcohol), which allows a lowering of

censure and reserve that can happen because it is done out of sight of strangers (Grignon

2001: 28-9). Inasmuch as commensality reinforces the social relations within a group, it

is also a way “to set up or restore the group by closing it, a way to assert or to strengthen

a ‘we’ by pointing out and rejecting the ‘others,’ a way for a group to make itself visible

and concrete to itself” (Grignon 2001: 28-9); this is where food expresses both social

differentiation and solidarity. Commensality thus closely intertwines with identity, since

it is one of the “techniques by which identity, or the feeling of fitting in with both a social

and mental category, can be defined and maintained” (Grignon 2001: 31).

While Grignon speaks of exceptional and everyday commensality (Grignon 2001:

28), his terminology basically corresponds with the often-opposed concepts of feasting

and daily meals, both of which have been of interest to anthropologists. In anthropology,

feasts are usually considered to be highly-charged political acts that simultaneously aim

to reinforce established power and status while redistributing wealth in order to create

reciprocal obligations (Hastorf and Weismantel 2007: 311; Pearson 2003: 10). During the

feast, consuming “food makes one a participant not only in the meal, but also in the social

contract” that underlines it (Hastorf and Weismantel: 313). Feasts tend to distinguish

themselves from daily meals by a ritualistic performance component, as well as a display

of abundance and sometimes a less common preparation style of the food (Hastorf and

Weismantel: 311). However the boundaries between everyday meals and feasts are fluid,

as daily meals are not necessarily devoid of political significance nor restricted to private

life (Hastorf and Weismantel: 314-7). Archaeologically speaking, domestic sites show

18

more often evidence of everyday eating than the occasional feasting, especially in the

case of historical archaeology, and because domestic meals are at the starting point of the

creation of shared traditions, they are at the core of archaeologists’ effort to learn more

about past social relations (Hastorf and Weismantel: 310).

c. Foodways as daily practices

These perceptions of food and identity are closely related to post-processual

approaches that emphasize individuals’ active role in society and the importance of daily

practices as embodiment of that agency (Twiss 2007: 6). These approaches have been

greatly influenced by Bourdieu’s theory of practice, which is based on the dialectic

between an individual’s agency and power to make choices, and the underlying structure

that influences this individual’s actions. In such a view, it is through daily practices that

individuals enact, produce and reproduce this dialectical relationship between agency and

structure. Post-processual archaeologists agree that such an approach based on daily

practices is well suited to their field, as most of the material found on sites are the result

of repeated and patterned daily practices (Lightfoot et al. 1998: 201). Such a view also

applies to foodways, as a large portion of archaeological remains (ceramics, glass, faunal

and botanical remains, and even spatial organization of buildings) relate in some way to

eating habits that must physiologically be repeated virtually every day.

Bourdieu’s theory of practice is based on the discursive relationship between

agents’ practical knowledge of the world, acquired through movement and inculcation,

and the conditions that render this knowledge possible (Bourdieu 1977). Bourdieu uses

19

the notion of habitus, or a “system of durable, transposable dispositions” to describe this

often unconscious knowledge of the world (Bourdieu 1977: 72). Those predispositions to

act in a certain manner both shape and are shaped by the conditions of a particular

environment, and are constantly enacted and embodied in social practice (Jones 2007:

49). Practice is not completely determined by antecedent conditions, but it is not totally

free either; the habitus produces practices within its own limiting principles while

adjusting to particular situations, so that an agent’s actions in the social world are

“regulated improvisation” (Bourdieu 1977: 73, 78). The homogeneity in habitus, which

derives from a homogeneity in social conditions, is what “causes practices to be

immediately intelligible and taken for granted” (Bourdieu 1977: 80), so that shared

habitual dispositions provide the basis for the recognition of common interest and

constitute the basis for the recognition of cultural affinities and differences on which

group membership is founded (Jones 2007:49). The ‘taken for granted’ or apparent self-

evidence of the rules and practices of the social world, to which Bourdieu refers as doxa

(1977: 164), can be fractured in times of political crisis or in contexts of cultural contact

(Bourdieu 1977: 168), which leaves room for a reflexive mode of perception and allows

agents the alternative to make a change in their reproduction of cultural tradition

(Bourdieu 1977: 164; Jones 2007: 49). In time, the re-enactment and adoption of novel

practices will lead to their internalization and become part of the structured dispositions

of the habitus (Jones 2007: 49) and will in turn become self-evident.

20

The relationship between practice and identity

The relationship between this theory of practice and the process of identity

formation asserts itself through its reciprocal nature; it is through social practice that

individuals encounter others on which to base their relational identity, while self-ascribed

identity and membership to a group will influence social practices. Identity formation

thus operates through practice, and is done both consciously and on a more unconscious

or self-evident basis (Scholliers 2001: 6-7). Through material practices, individuals can

rework and even manipulate their social identities, especially in cases where practices can

alter power relations. In his analysis of taste in contemporary France, Bourdieu (1984)

argued that upper classes often used food, just as they would use taste in music, art or

clothes, to differentiate themselves from lower classes; but when the latter sought to

mimic the former by emulating those practices, the upper-classes would change their

taste (Bourdieu 1984; Caplan 1997: 11). Such an example shows that practices and social

identities indeed closely intertwine as they both shape and embody the other.

Food and practice theory

As a fundamental biological act, eating must be repeated virtually everyday for

the individual’s survival, and this characteristic translates into foodways being among the

various “routinized practices” that, as Bourdieu has explored, serve to inculcate habitus

(Dietler 2007: 222). The study of food represents a way for archaeologists to get closer to

quotidian and often redundant daily practices, “the daily events that keep the family, the

kin group and the community together” (Hastorf and Weismantel 2007: 310). Because

21

what gets eaten is a result of individual decisions about food preparation and decisions

about when, how, and how much food should be consumed and by whom (Smith 2006:

480-1), such studies allow archaeologists to perceive agency for every member of the

society (Hastorf and Weismantel 2007: 322).

Food and eating habits posses another characteristic of Bourdieu’s theory of

practice: their inculcation since childhood. Indeed, childhood experiences and learning

play a key role in the production and reproduction of an individual’s habitus (Bourdieu

1977), and similarly children become familiar from birth with certain flavors that are

characteristic of their environment. It is during the early phase of eating that the familiar

and the unfamiliar, both in terms of practices and taste, become defined (Farb and

Armelagos 1980: 185).

d. Food at the intersection of identities and practices

In archaeological theory, identities are believed to be expressed through practices

and the material culture that they create (Casella and Fowler 2005), and because of the

durable and persistent nature of material culture, it can “function to stabilize social

identities that are otherwise volatile” (Voss 2008: 4). Food is a particular kind of artifact,

because it is intentionally created for destruction through the transformative process of

ingestion and therefore possesses an unusually close relationship to the person (Dietler

2007: 222; Meigs 1988: 355); as an individual eats, their food becomes embodied in

them. Of course, archaeological remains rarely contains actual foodstuffs, but evidence of

food-related practices are ubiquitous and can be explored through the analysis of ceramic

sherds, botanical remains, faunal remains, spatial organization and so on.

22

In conclusion, food intensively creates the individual as well as the community

through the daily practices of eating; it is the “ultimate habitus practice, as meals

structure the lives not only of the preparers but also of the consumers” (Atalay and

Hastorf 2006: 284). They weave identity, families and communities together on a regular

basis, in mental constructs as well as through the pragmatics of “keeping food on the

table.” Food is therefore the “original social glue that forms the bonds of family and

society while creating the individual” (Atalay and Hastorf 2006: 284).

23

CHAPTER 3

SARAH BOSTON’S FARMSTEAD

AND ANIMAL HUSBANDRY IN NEW ENGLAND

The Sarah Boston Farmstead site, located in Grafton, Massachusetts, has a

dynamic and relatively well-documented history, spanning Nipmuc occupation of the

land prior to English settlement, the establishment of John Eliot’s praying towns in the

mid-17th century, King Philip’s War and its aftermath, and the hardships and successes

of the Nipmuc people during the 18th and 19th centuries. This chapter relates that history

and highlights the particular story of the “Four Sarahs,” four Nipmuc women belonging

to the same matrilineal line who successively occupied parts of the parcel on which the

Sarah Boston Farmstead is located. As animal husbandry and meat consumption are

pivotal to the questions asked in the present study, the last section of this chapter is

dedicated to the history of animal husbandry in New England and the ways in which the

presence of domestic animals influenced not only Indians’ foodways and subsistence

practices, but also deeply affected the relationship between colonists and Indians.

24

a. Overview of the Nipmuc People’s history in Massachusetts

In the years prior to English settlement in Massachusetts, it is estimated that 3000

Nipmuc Indians occupied “some 39 band encampments or ‘villages’ in Nipmet,” the

ancestral homeland which covered most of central Massachusetts, northern Connecticut

and northern Rhode Island (Doughton 1997). Archaeological surveys carried out on the

Hassanamesit Woods property have shown that Native Americans have been present on

the land for 4000 years, possibly 8000 (Gary 2005), so that this land had deep-rooted ties

with the Nipmuc people.

When English colonists settled in New England in the late 1620s, the

evangelization of the Natives was as one of the main goals of the settlement (Cogley

1999: 2; Salisbury 1974: 29). For the newcomers, Indians were like children:

unreasonable, enslaved by their passions and deficient in order, industry and manners and

accordingly needed to be introduced to “civility” in order to be accepted as full members

of the Church and be saved from their pagan and sinner state (Axtell 1985: 83, 183;

Cogley 1999: 17; Gookin 1674: 170; Van Lonkhuyzen 1990: 133). Civilizing the Indians

entailed promulgating Puritan rituals and teachings, but also introducing them to English

goods, technology and everyday practices (Cogley 1999: 17; Van Lonkhuyzen 1990:

406). English missionaries were thus to establish missions where Indians could be

civilized in a supervised manner; these missions would provide a place for the

segregation and protection of the converts from outside influence (White settlers and non-

Christian Natives alike) and in which they would live sedentary lives and learn to work

the land according to English standards (Axtell 1985: 139). John Eliot, a Puritan teacher

25

and minister, started preaching to the local Native communities in 1646 and soon

consolidated the mission, following the General Court’s directives to find a place for the

Indians to live “in an orderly way among us” (Eliot cited in Cogley 1999: 39, 52) and be

instructed towards civility. He would refer to those communities as ‘Praying Towns’

(Cogley 1999: 53).

After the successful creation of Natick, the first praying town, in 1650, Eliot

established thirteen more praying towns (figure 1) in the decades prior to King Philip’s

war (1675-1676), including Hassanamesit (1654), which at the moment of its

establishment was said to contain “twelve families or sixty souls” (Gookin 1674: 185;

Pierce 1879: 20). After the General Court granted more land for Eliot to establish the

communities, his task was to prepare a code of laws for the Indians, which would help

them becoming more familiar with English practices. This code of law focused on

language, work habits, gender division of labor and sexuality, and dress and hairstyle

(Cogley 1999: 53-54; Salisbury 1974). While many of the Indians continued to live in

wigwams, several English-style structures were built, including meetinghouses and some

private houses, as well as churches at Natick and Hassanamesit (Clark 2003: 15).

Leadership was established following the Bible’s Exodus, so that Indians first chose a

“ruler of a hundred,” then two “rulers of fifties” and ten “rulers of ten.” This nomination

process allowed some established leaders and sachems to retain their prominence in the

new system, that is as long as they had first professed their loyalty to the English, and

gave some power of decision to the Praying Indians (Mandell 1991: 554). However

English magistrates, such as the Superintendant whose office was created in 1656, could

26

veto any decisions made by the Indian rulers so that the Indians living in the praying

towns were in fact subjected to the General Court and English laws (Salisbury 1974: 32).

Even though one of the goals in establishing the praying towns was to avoid land

disputes with English settlers and protect the Natives against land encroachment

(Salisbury 1974:40), the praying Indians were subject to mistrust from both English

settlers and non-Christian Natives.

Figure 1. Map showing Eliot's Praying Towns (Cogley 1999: xiv)

The tensions regarding land encroachment escalated into King Philip’s War in 1675, and

while some Christian Indians joined Philip/Metacomet, a mistrust of all Indians resulted

in the sending of those loyal to the English to Deer Island in Boston Harbor for the winter

27

(Mrozowski et al. 2009; Silverman 2003: 521), until they were released to a white

guardian a few months before the end of the war (Mandell 1991: 555). King Philip’s War

deeply affected all New England Indians and resulted in deep changes in English-Indian

interactions that played a key role in launching the rise of racism (Kawashima 1969: 44;

Van Lonkhuyzen 1990: 421).

Following the war, some of those who survived the rough winter and malnutrition

on Deer Island returned to their villages and once there were greeted by violent Mohawk

raids (Mrozowski et al. 2009). Meanwhile, the General Court attempted to exert more

control over them and passed an act that ordered all Indians who were permitted to live

within the colony to reside in one of the four remaining plantations of Natick, Punkapoag,

Hassanamesit and Wamesit (Doughton 1997; Kawashima 1969: 44; Van Lonkhuyzen

1990: 421). King Philip’s War had played a part in disrupting Eliot’s missionary work,

but the minister’s death in 1690 put a decisive end to the era of missionary activity that

had established the towns (Mrozowski et al. 2009). In the following decades, the Indians

who had lived in Eliot’s communities before the war were given little colonial assistance

or attention as they developed separate communities, especially in Natick, where the

church and English agrarian practices came to a standstill among the Indians (Mandell

1991: 556).

The turn of the century saw a shift in New England economy with the

development of a mercantile economy that encouraged personal gain instead of Puritan

ideals of communal goods (Mandell 1991: 560). As a result, Native Americans, including

the Hassanamesit Nipmuc, faced increasing pressures to sell their lands and enter the

28

market economy (Doughton 1997). The Hassanamesit land was particularly sought after;

in the words of Grafton’s first reverend Solomon Prentice: “the Indians had named it

Hassanamisco, meaning a place of small stones, but the land was moist, rich and

productive, ideal farming land and there were several good orchards” (Prentice [n.d], 1).

In 1727, the people of Hassanamesit were approached by the colony to sell their land, for

which they would receive “cash, church pews, parcels of land to be owned individually,

common lands set aside and a school and church to be maintained at the expenses of the

purchasers” (Doughton 1997; Pierce 1879: 36-7). In return, the colony of Massachusetts

would establish a Trusteeship consisting of three men under the purview of the General

Court to oversee the affairs of the Hassanamesit Indians (Forbes 1889: 169). The court

set aside parts of the land for the private ownership of seven known Hassanamesit

families, all of whom could be traced back to leaders amongst Eliot’s praying town

community. These families were expected to embrace English styles of land ownership

and “improve” their parcels in such a way that was satisfactory to the Trustees by

clearing, fencing, or altering the natural landscape (Law 2008: 34). Hassanamesit was

thus sold for 2,500 pounds, but instead of the Indians getting the total amount of the sale,

the Trustees were to keep and invest the money and distribute the yearly interests among

the Nipmuc proprietors (Forbes 1889: 169). The remarkable number of petitions signed

by Hassanamesit Nipmucs in which they complained about not receiving their money

shows that what little money they did receive amounted to only a small part of what they

should have received, and by 1841 the funds had completely run out (Forbes 1889: 170).

29

b. The “Four Sarahs”

Peter and Sarah (Robins) Muckamaug’s family was among the seven

Hassanamesit residents who participated in the sale of Hassanamesit, for which they

received 183 of the 1000 or so acres of land that the Hassanamesit Nipmucs were granted

(Grafton Records; Doughton 1997; Pierce 1879: 52). In accordance with Nipmuc

customs, the Muckamaug parcel of land was passed down through the female line, and

continued so for five generations until the 1850s, when the parcel was completely sold

(Law 2008: 36). This matrilineal tradition seems to coincide with the passing down of

names, as all of the Nipmuc women who owned or inherited the Muckamaug parcel were

named Sarah. Even though the significance of this pattern is not well understood, it does

not appear to be coincidental and is probably related to Nipmuc traditions of inheritance

(Law 2008).

The first documented Sarah who lived on the parcel, Sarah Robins, is believed to

have been the daughter or granddaughter of the Sachem Petavit, whose alias was “Robin”

and who had lived in the original Praying Town of Hassanamesit (Gookin 1674: 191;

Earle papers 1:1). The records show that Sarah married Peter Muckamaug, who was

either Narragansett or a Nipmuc from Natick, and that they had two children: George,

born in 1714, and Sarah whose date of birth is uncertain (Records of Grafton, MA, Vital

Records). They probably lived in Providence, Rhode Island, before returning to

Hassanamesit (now Grafton) in 1729 to claim their plot of land located on the eastern

slope of Keith Hill (Law 2008: 38). Peter died in 1740, and Sarah remarried to Thomas

English sometime between then and 1746 (Law 2008: 38).

30

Sarah and Peter’s daughter, Sarah Muckamaug, was indentured at a young age as

a servant for the Brown family in Providence and so had probably little contact with her

parents and community (Earle Papers 1:4; Law 2008: 41). While in service, she met and

married an African American slave named Aaron Whipple, with whom she had several

children: Rhoda and Abigail who were also indentured to the Brown family (Earle

Papers: 1:4) and Joseph (Law 2008: 41). However, Sarah and Aaron parted around 1741,

maybe as a result of Sarah’s return to Hassanamesit. The circumstances of her return are

not well known, but it is possible that she returned to take care of her aging mother or

possibly claim her inheritance (Law 2008). Whatever the reason, on her way back to

Hassanamesit, she stopped and lived on the Wilkinson farm, where she apparently built a

wigwam (Earle Papers 1:4). During her stay, Aaron Whipple visited her and their

conversation was later related by Mrs. Wilkinson, to whom Sarah had confided her

troubles and told that Aaron would not live with her anymore, nor take care of the

children as he had promised (Law 2008: 42). Whatever the reason, their separation

appears to have been final, as she then met and had one child, Sarah, with African-

American Fortune Burnee (Law 2008: 42). In 1749, her mother Sarah Robins died, and

the same year Sarah Muckamaug petitioned to sell land that was “distant and remote from

the homestead” in order to fetch 200 pounds to build “a house on the homestead” and

maybe buy “a cow or two” (M.A. Series 228, Vol. 31: 694). Not long after, Sarah fell

sick and died in 1751, and her husband Fortune had to sell more land to repay for her care

in sickness and for her burial (Law 2008: 45). Fortune remarried to Abigail Printer, and

31

the records show that he continued to receive funds on behalf of his daughter Sarah (Law

2008: 45).

After her mother’s death in 1751, Sarah Burnee was raised and cared for by her

father Fortune and other community members (Law 2008: 45). As she was too young at

age 7 to claim her inheritance, she had to wait until she reached 21 before claiming and

being granted sole ownership of the property (Earle Papers 1:3; Law 2008: 46). A few

years later in 1768, her half-brother Joseph Aaron returned from indentured service in

Providence (Earle Papers 1:4) and lived for a while under the Muckamaug roof. Three

years later, Joseph and Sarah were entangled in a legal battle for ownership of the land,

and the court decreed the equal division of the family parcel, leaving Sarah with the

house, the “olde Barne” and several of the rye and wheat fields that Joseph had tended to

during his stay at the house (Earle Papers 1:4; Law 2008: 46-7). This battle over land

titles went deeper than mere legal issues; this was also a battle of values and different

conceptions of gender and ownership between Nipmuc matrilineal traditions and Euro-

American notions of individual property with which Joseph Aaron had been raised (Law

2008: 48).

Prior to these legal proceedings, Sarah had married an African American man

named Prince Dam in 1769, but they must have separated because she married Boston

Phillips in 1786 and had two children with him: Benjamin and Sarah (Law 2008: 50).

Local lore makes contradicting mention of Boston Phillips’s ancestry, as he was at times

considered to be a “full blooded Indian” and at other times a former slave (Forbes 1889:

177; Law 2008: 50). Be that as it may, we learn from purchase receipts that in 1795 Sarah

32

and Boston undertook the building or repairing of the house for which they acquired 180

feet of pine boards, 219 feet of clapboards, nails, hinges and spikes (M.A.C. Guardians of

the Indians, Accounts and Correspondences: 47). Not long after the repairs of the house,

Sarah Burnee’s father Fortune and her husband Boston Phillips died within two years of

each other, and their deaths left Sarah and the two children in a difficult economic

situation, so that she had to sell more of the family land to cover her debts (Law 2008:

50). Over the following years, Sarah continued to count on English neighbors for help

and loans, and whenever the Trustees ran out of money with which to pay off her debts,

she would sell more of her land (Law 2008: 51).

Sarah “Boston” Phillips is remembered in the local lore as the “last of the

Nipmucs” and the “last descendant of King Philip,” presumably because of her father

Boston Philips’s ancestry (Law 2008: 51). Sarah Boston’s free-spirited personality and

larger-than-life persona marked her contemporaries and their descendants’ imagination

enough for her to be remembered through the generations even though the colonial

records made rare mention of her. In her account, Harriette Forbes describes Sarah

Boston as “a gigantic Indian woman” who wore men’s clothes and wandered about the

country selling baskets and looking for farmwork (at which she was apparently quite

proficient) (Forbes 1889: 177). She is also referred to as a heavy drinker who liked to be

paid in cider in return for her work on the neighboring farms (Forbes 1889: 177-8). While

these accounts of Sarah Boston are undoubtedly biased by Victorian stereotypes of

gender and race, some insights into Sarah’s life and personality can still be gained from

these accounts. For instance, she apparently took good care of her farmstead and took

33

pride in her “small bit of garden” and cherry tree, which she decided to chop to spite local

children who constantly raided it, claiming that the tree had shaded her house to the

extent that she “couldn’t read her bible” (Forbes 1889: 179; Law 2008: 57). This brief

anecdote is only one of many that demonstrate Sarah’s spirited and insubordinate

character (Law 2008: 57).

The local records also provide a description and sketch of Sarah’s house:

“Low and little, black and old faced Kittville. The East door above at the end

of front. In the middle of the room on the opposite side as one entered was

the big chimney with all the things around it, no cupboard, cooking utensils,

stools, no chairs. Small loft accessible by ladder. Indians just slept around.

Set the table in the middle. Windows faced out toward the valley, and were

little. When the door was shut it was quite dark. (Fiske #11, [n.d.] 6).

Figure 2. Sketch of Sarah Boston's house from Fiske local history (Fiske #11, [n.d.] 6).

The colonial records indicate that Sarah petitioned to sell land three times in her

life, mostly as a means to get money to support her and the children, of which she had

three, possibly with Otis Newman (Law 2008: 50). Stephen and Joseph were born

respectively in 1813 and 1815, and Sarah Mary, born in 1818, was sent to work in

Worcester at an early age, presumably because of her mother’s precarious economic

situation (Law 2008: 58). At Sarah Boston’s death in 1837, of the original ~180-acre

parcel that Peter and Sarah Muckamaug had received remained less than 20 acres, and

34

Sarah Boston left a large amount of debt that her daughter inherited along with the

farmstead. Sarah Mary held onto the land for almost 20 years, until she petitioned in 1850

to sell the final 20 acres to pay off her and her mother’s debts (Law 2008: 59).

Beyond the particularities of the “Four Sarahs’” stories, choices and personalities,

the history of the Muckamaug parcel and its inhabitants also exemplifies broader

historical trends of the 18th and 19th centuries that are often skimmed over by historians,

but have been recently addressed in more detail by Mandell (1991, 1998, 2008) and

Silverman (2001, 2005). These trends, in particular the privatization and sale of

communal land, indebtedness, indentured servitude and intermarriage between Native

women and African American men, are omnipresent in the story of the four Sarahs, but

they were also experienced by many other New England Native Americans and are

therefore worth some elaboration.

In small communities such as Hassanamesit, Indians were quickly overwhelmed

by Anglo-American settlers who “took control of institutions and kept the original

inhabitants out of churches and town meetings” (Mandell 2008: 20), while coveting

Indian lands for themselves. The pressure to enter the market economy increased as

ecological transformations, the spread of towns and extensive agriculture eliminated

forest cover and forage for game animals (Mandell 1991: 566), so that Indians had to rely

on money or credit in order to obtain what they needed for subsistence. The sale and

privatization of communal land thus allowed them to get some money and in time

became a necessity (Mandell 1991: 566). The Hassanamesit Nipmucs sold their

communal land in 1727, but there were not alone in adopting this strategy, as the people

35

of Natick had done the same a few years earlier. A number of Indians also sold parts of

their individual parcels in order to build barns and to purchase cattle, horses and farm

tools (Mandell 1991: 567), as did Sarah Muckamaug and Fortune Burnee who sold part

of the land to build a house and buy “a cow or two” (M.A. Series 228, Vol. 31: 694).

After he remarried, Fortune and his wife Abigail likewise petitioned to sell a piece of

land, the profits of which they hoped would be “sufficient to build them a small barn to

secure their crops,” and their request was soon granted (M.A. Series 228, Vol. 33: 589-

590). In fact, while the Hassanamesit Nipmucs had to ask the Colonial Court for

permission to sell their land, it seems that it was relatively easy to get permission when

faced with debts or dire needs (Mandell 2008: 21), which is not so surprising considering

the colonists’ high demand for land.

The selling of land was a popular strategy of survival among New England

Indians and many did so to pay off their debts. By the 1730s, many Indians had run out of

land to sell and most lived in scattered homesteads instead of tight communities (Mandell

1991: 571). Debt reached an all time high as virtually all Indians became dependent upon

store credit for clothing and sustenance (Silverman 2005: 186); land encroachment had

compromised movement and subsistence, and the declining number of deer forced

Indians to kill valuable livestock or buy meat at the store (Silverman 2001: 626-8).

In the history of New England, Native indebtedness and indentured servitude were

closely intertwined phenomena. English settlers in need of a workforce had soon learned

that the best way to press Indians into service was to allow them to indebt themselves to

merchants, and the efficacy of this tactic increased as Indians became more and more

36

dependent on merchants to fulfill their basic needs of food and clothing (Silverman 2001:

625). Poverty precluded most Indians from satisfying their creditors (Silverman 2001:

632; 2005: 194) so that many were brought to court where they sold their labor and that

of their children to work off their debts (Silverman 2001: 636). The consequences of

children’s servitude on Native practices were unprecedented, as the English had now the

power to influence the young’s socialization and raise them according to their standards

in gender roles and practices (Silverman 2005: 209). Ironically, the opportunity to learn

English ways could be empowering, as it provided Indians with skills - such as weaving

and animal husbandry - that could make them producers and enabling them to sustain

themselves (Silverman 2001: 655). However, the influence was not merely at the

practical level, but sometimes also psychological, as the court battle between Sarah

Burnee and her half-brother Joseph Aaron has demonstrated. By claiming his right to the

land, Joseph Aaron was adopting an Anglo-American perception of ownership, so that in

his mind his gender and “improving” of the land by planting crops entitled him to the

parcel. On the other hand, it seems that indentured servitude did not preclude Native

children from becoming familiar with their people’s ways, as the records tell us that

Sarah Muckamaug knew how to build a wigwam and was familiar with Nipmuc

traditions despite a childhood spent in an English family (Law 2008). In another twist of

irony, indentured servitude and racism seem to have thwarted acculturation; by

“relegating Indians to a lower cast status, servitude promoted the idea that Indians were

incapable of living “ordered” English lives and belonged to the periphery of society”

37

(Silverman 2005: 214), which gave them the freedom to create small enclaves of Native

identity.

Another recurring theme throughout the four Sarahs’ history that can be linked to

broader historical processes is the intermarriages between Native women and African

American men. Both Sarah Muckamaug and her daughter Sarah Burnee married African

Americans, and in his history of Grafton, Pierce noted that in 1793 “there were indeed

several farms in the possession of the heirs of the Indians, married to Negroes; but it is

said there is not one male in the town at this day, who is all of Indian extract or blood”

(Pierce 1879: 79). Indeed, during the 18th and 19th centuries, the absence of Native men

due to wartime losses and jobs in port cities or in the whaling industry (Mandell 1998:

472) led Indian women to find husbands outside their communities and among African

Americans. They were brought together by the ratio of male and female among both

populations, but also by the similar legal and social conditions that their marginal status

in colonial society created (Mandell 1998: 469; 2008 43). Both groups found advantages

to such alliances: for African American men, marrying a Native American woman could

mean freedom for himself and definitely for their children, as well as access to land and

other resources (Mandell 2008: 469). For Indian women, African American men could

bring new skills, social and political connections to Native communities and in some

ways enable the family and group to survive (Mandell 2008: 470-8). Despite occasional

racial protests, Indian groups in New England were rather tolerant of African Americans

and even white newcomers (Mandell 2008: 478). In the case of Hassanamesit, Pierce

wrote that in 1830 there “were fourteen families of a mixed Indian/Negro race, which still

38

held some of the Indian lands and received the benefit of the small remaining fund”

(Pierce 1879: 68). This describes Sarah Burnee and her descendants’ situation perfectly.

Unions between Native women and African American men were rarely recorded

or legitimized, and this recording pattern or lack thereof makes it arduous for historians

to comprehend the extent to which such alliances existed. However, Mandell’s study of

this period’s censuses show that as occurrences of intermarriage and children of “mixed

blood” increased, so did the confusion of outside observers in determining Indianness

based on skin color (Mandell 1991: 579). This probably played a key role in the popular

idea at the time that Indians were disappearing (Mandell 1991: 578). In truth,

intermarriages between Native women and African American men had paradoxical

ramifications. On one hand, women generally remained on their land and kept farms

operating, endeavoring to halt trespass and encroachment. As mothers, they raised the

next generations, passing on tribal stories and values of community (Mandell 2008: 61).

On the other hand, migration and intermarriage worked together to “weaken the ties

binding some Indian groups and to increase the socioeconomic and ethnic mobility of

their descendants” (Mandell 2008: 495). This created risks for the community, as

individuals had numerous opportunities and reasons to reduce their participation in the

community (Mandell 2008: 485). In time, Native values and traditions came in conflict

with the African American’s adoption of the Anglo-American culture of individual gain

and competition (Mandell 2008: 495), which possibly explains Sarah Muckamaug and

Aaron Whipple’s separation around 1741.

39

c. Animal husbandry in New England

Closely interwoven within the colonial history of relationships between Native

and Anglo-Americans in New England is the role that domestic livestock played in

establishing, maintaining and/or altering those relationships. In her examination of this

particular topic, Anderson (1994, 2004) has stressed the importance of domestic animals

in the development of Indian-white settler relationships, in particular in regards to

conflict and the colonial agenda of acculturation through the Indians’ adoption of English

agricultural practices. As the Indians’ adoption of livestock-raising is a central theme of

the present study, this section provides a brief history of Natives’ relationships to

livestock from their first arrival in the 1620s to the 19th century, while drawing heavily

from Anderson’s exhaustive research on the subject.

Prior to European settlers’ arrival, Native Americans had given animals an

important place in their world, both practical and spiritual. Rather than understanding

animals and humans as opposites sides of a dichotomy, Native Americans understood the

world to be infused with spiritual power (manit/manitou) that could take a multitude of

forms, including that of animals (Anderson 2004: 17-9). An animal’s possession of

manitou was not always permanent and depended upon the favor of guardian spirits, with

whom Indians had to respectfully negotiate when hunting (Anderson 2004: 20, 30).

Natives living in the American Northeast had mastered the seasonal exploitation of

resources, relying on fish and migratory birds in the spring and summer, fresh mammal

meat (beaver, caribou, moose, deer, bear) in the fall, and smoked meat and for those

farming groups on stored provisions in the winter (Cronon 1983: 37-40). Gookin

40

describes Native foodways as follows: “They frequently boil in this pottage [of maize and

kidney-beans] fish and flesh of all sorts, either new taken or dried… also they boil in this

furmenty all sorts of flesh, moose, otters, rackoons, or any kind that they take in hunting”

(Gookin 1674: 150). Hunting usually worked in groups, with small parties regularly

checking traps and snares or working together to catch birds in nets or with bows and

arrows (Anderson 2004: 28). While men hunted, women carried dead game back to

camp, where they butchered, processed and cooked the meat, smoking some of it for use

later in the winter, and prepared hides for clothing (Cronon 1983: 47). Intentional burning

of fields and woods served to promote the presence of prized mammals, so that Indians

had developed a system by which they were consciously manipulating the landscape to

facilitate their subsistence, a practice to which Cronon refers as a “more distant kind of

husbandry” (Cronon 1983: 51-2). It comes as no surprise that when the first domesticated

animals arrived on American soil Native Americans at first perceived them the same way

they did the animals that were part of their world: infused with spiritual power. “Unlike

kettles or beads, livestock were animal beings, and thus could not be approached as if

another class of trade goods” (Anderson 2004: 38).

The English had a very different approach to domesticated animals, and indeed to

the natural world as a whole. Drawing from a long tradition of opposing notions of nature

and culture, the English equaled civilization with sedentarism and believed in the

assertion of men’s dominion over nature, which they considered natural and divinely

sanctioned (Anderson 1994: 604; 2004: 45). Domesticated animals in the New World

41

were to help the cause of civilization by improving the land, grazing and clearing fields,

pulling plows and feeding the population (Anderson 2004: 83).

Consequently, from the first establishment of English settlements in the region,

livestock were in high demand and “ship after ship arrived loaded with upward 50

animals in a load” (Cronon 1983: 128-9). The successful colonization of New England

depended heavily on domestic animals, since chronic labor shortages made animal

husbandry a particularly efficient use of resources (Anderson 1994: 602, 604). Hogs were

particularly useful as they reproduced rapidly, could eat anything, were able to defend

themselves against wild animals, and required very little attention until they were

slaughtered in the fall (Cronon 1983: 129). Cattle were sent to graze in the warmer

months and could provide highly sought-after meat and dairy products, as well as hides

and animal power for plowing and clearing fields (Cronon 1983: 129). Sheep were used

for their wool, but did not flourish in New England until the 1660s, when settlers found

solutions to their destructive impact on pastures and their vulnerability to predators

(Cronon 1983: 129; Anderson 2004: 147-8). Deemed to be too destructive and not

economically productive, goats were almost all banished by the 1650s (Anderson 2004:

148), while horses were mostly used for transportation and military purposes (Cronon

1983: 129). New Englanders quickly came to see domestic animals as the only

meaningful form of agricultural capital outside of land itself, and “owning livestock made

all the difference between owning a plot of land and having a working farm” (Anderson

2004: 143). English settlers perceived their livestock as fixed property that had the

42

characteristic to be able to generate a surplus and were thus considered to be highly

reliable and valuable commodities (Anderson 2004: 151; Cronon 1983: 129).

Native Americans had quite a different conception of property and ownership,

which consisted more of a people’s collective and communal right to satisfy their needs

than personal real estate (Cronon 1983: 59-60). When hunting, Indians granted rights to

animals only once they were killed, in a way rewarding the hunter’s skills (Anderson

2004: 38; Cronon 1983: 130).

These diverging conceptions of ownership, in conjunction with the colonists’

hunger for land, soon led to conflict in New England. The English often left their

livestock to graze without supervision, and many cases were reported of English animals

trespassing and grazing onto Indian crop fields or of them falling into deer traps or killed

while grazing on hunting land (Anderson 2004: 608). Indians were held responsible for

such occurrences and resentment grew over trespassing and the resulting discriminatory

English laws that forced Natives to adopt fencing as a farming strategy (Anderson 2004:

189; Cronon 1983: 131-2). Both Indians and colonists came to associate livestock with

Englishness, which led them to vest more meaning into those quarrels than the situation

might otherwise seem to warrant (Anderson 2004: 177), but the issue held deep meaning

as livestock eventually also altered the composition of forests and meadows and

compacted the soil, which drove away a large portion of the deer population (Anderson

2004: 185; Cronon 1983: 108). Meanwhile, as the number of English livestock increased

the high demand for grazing land intensified, and so did the need to acquire more land

(Cronon 1983: 142).

43

One of the English’s solutions to the growing conflicts about livestock was to

convince Indians to take up animal husbandry themselves (Anderson 2004: 199). While

the practice does not appear to have been very popular at first, some Indians, including

King Philip/Metacomet, soon came to realize that grazing livestock on the land was one

of the most practical ways to protect their land from encroachment and establish usufruct

claim on it, since they could then meet some of the requirements for “civilization” by

having animals “improving” the land (Silverman 2003: 513). Those who adopted animal

husbandry as a strategy did so according to their own needs as a supplement to hunting,

and chose the English animal, swine, that would least disrupt their life ways. Pigs

undoubtedly looked familiar as they somewhat resembled dogs, and above all they

required little attention while still providing meat and fat, so that their raising allowed for

Indians to continue their accustomed subsistence practices (Anderson 2004: 613).

Although English settlers raised hogs and ate pork, they did not share the Indians’

preference for swine over the more docile (and what they thought superior) cattle, which

they considered to be an expression of the Indians’ inability to make good choices

(Anderson 2004: 614). The extent of native livestock husbandry “is difficult to measure

because colonial records focused on cases of conflicts, but the evidence suggests that

Indians residing near English settlements had a greater tendency to raise domestic

animals” (Anderson 2004: 214).

Such was the case of those Native Americans living in Eliot’s Praying Towns,

who faced high encroachment and missionary pressures. In addition to adopting animal

husbandry as a tactic to protect their land, raising livestock was for them also part of the

44

English practices they had to adopt in order to reach civility and Christianity (Anderson

1994: 605). It appears that some of them took on the practice and did so well enough for

Superintendent Daniel Gookin to boast of it: “[Hassanamesit] is an apt place for keeping

cattle and swine; in which respect this people are

the best stored of any Indian town of their size”

(Gookin 1674: 185). He further adds: “their way of

living is by husbandry, and keeping cattle and

swine; wherein they do as well, or rather better,

than any other Indians, but yet are very far short of

the English both in diligence and providence”

(Gookin 1674: 185). Animal husbandry became

such a hallmark of the success of the Praying Towns, that in 1670 the colony issued a

bow-and-arrow shaped cattle brand for the Christian Indians of Natick (figure 3)

(Silverman 2003: 521). Nevertheless, Indians who adopted livestock did not relinquish

their ways, but incorporated those new practices into their traditional rounds of hunting,

fishing and gathering (Silverman 2003: 520). Still, raising livestock must have altered the

Christian Indians’ perception of animals’ spiritual significance, and some of them must in

some measure have come to terms with the English way of thinking about animals

(Anderson 2004: 204; Van Lonkhuyzen 1990: 412).

Despite missionary ideals of converting Indians to civility, colonial officials

appeared to worry that Indians would readily adopt this practice to suit their needs while

ignoring the rest of the civilizing agenda, and therefore limited Indians’ animal

Figure 3. Natick's bow-and-arrow cattle brand (Silverman 2003: 521).

45

husbandry in various ways (Anderson 2004: 205), notably by passing a series of

restrictions in 1672 on Indians’ selling livestock and meat at the Boston market

(Silverman 2003: 520). The situation frustrated the colonists, who saw Indians

increasingly become forceful competitors in the market and in their need for land, so that

suspicions and conflict grew accordingly (Anderson 2004: 212). The situation was such

that when King Philip/Metacomet declared war on the English in 1675, tensions about

land and livestock were part of his causa belli (Anderson 2004: 218).

As we know, most Christian Indians were sent to Deer Island during the

hostilities, and settlers took advantage of the situation as “mobs tore down incarcerated

Indians’ fences, destroyed their orchards and stole items like guns, utensils for carts and

ploughs, corn and swine” (Gookin 1674: 456-512). Given all of the tensions surrounding

livestock, it is evident that “those who raided Christian Indians’ livestock attacked

symbols as well as living beasts” (Anderson 2004: 235). The suspicions remained

through the conflict and the situation did not improve after the war, when returning

Indians were left to themselves to either resume their previous activities or return to a

more mobile mode of subsistence (Anderson 2004: 241; Silverman 2003: 522). But deer

populations had declined, and the expansion of cleared land dammed the passage of fish

and fenced off Indian access to fresh grounds (Silverman 2003: 522), so that by the

1720s, the period when most sales of communal lands by Nipmuc Indians occurred, some

Native Americans realized that they could no longer live without some adjustments to

their economy (Silverman 2003: 523).

46

The time of privatization of land coincides with a rise of Native livestock

husbandry between the 1720s-1740s (Silverman 2003: 523), when many Indians

(including Sarah Muckamaug) asked the colony for permission to sell land, some of them

citing their need to finance improvements, including horses, cows, oxen and pasture

(Silverman 2003: 523). Their decision to adopt animal husbandry was undoubtedly

motivated by different and situational factors, such as the desire to participate in the

burgeoning capitalist economy, as a means of coping with environmental change, to

continue performing work learned while in indentured service, and last but not least to

protect their land from encroachment (Silverman 2003: 524). While “Englishmen linked

their animal husbandry to a social order that rewarded hard work with private gain, many

Indians used domestic herds to uphold their distinctive communal values and protect

collective territories that embodied their peoplehood” (Silverman 2003: 515). Indians

who learned to live with livestock did so because they wished to remain Indians and not

because they accepted the colonial acculturation agenda (Anderson 2004: 245).

Little is known of Native Americans’ use of domestic animals in the late 18th and

19th centuries as researchers of this era have focused more of their attention on the

comparison between rural and urban diets (see Bowen 1994; 1998; Landon 1996).

However, archaeological research conducted on southern New England reservations

provides some information on Native foodways during this period. Cipolla (Cipolla et al.

2007) and Fedore’s (2008) research on Eastern Pequot meat diet during the 18th and 19th

centuries shows that there was a tendency for Native Americans to increasingly raise

their own livestock – especially pigs and cattle - on reservation land, while retaining

47

strong ties to the past through hunting and fishing. This also seems to be the case of

Native Americans who did not live on reservations, who appear to have adopted a way of

life similar to that of other rural subsistence-based practices and lived on farmsteads that

allowed them to produce most of their own foodstuffs. By looking at the foodways from

the 1790-1850 occupation of the Sarah Boston Farmstead, the present study serves to

provide additional data on the Nipmuc meat diet of the time.

While our knowledge of Natives’ husbandry practices is limited, we do know a lot

about Euro-American practices of 19th-century New England. Meat was an important part

of most families’ diet, but so were dairy products, which rendered cattle and beef a highly

prized commodity (Bowen 1994: 157; Clark 1990: 77). New Englanders had well-

developed field systems and good pastures so that cows could be raised for meat, dairy

products or for draft purposes (Bowen 1994: 156). Animal by-products could also be

acquired through the raising of cattle, such as hides and skins, tallow for candles, and

bristles, all of which could be exchanged through the local market (Clark 1990: 77).

Bowen’s research into subsistence-based agriculture shows that throughout the 18th

century, most farmers purchased only a couple of cattle, but by the 19th century families

more commonly fed between 4-12 cattle each season (Bowen 1998: 145).

While cattle played a pivotal role in 19th-century farmers’ lives, sheep were also

important as they could provide wool and meat, so that many farmers kept a few sheep in

addition to cattle and pigs (Bowen 1998: 147). As opposed to cattle and sheep who

needed hay and feedstuffs for part of the year, pigs required little labor time, and were

48

inexpensive to keep as they could feed on household scraps and other surplus foodstuffs

(Clark 1990: 78).

Local exchange of foodstuffs with neighbors and kin served to redistribute uneven

supplies of grain and other products between households, but livestock provided “the

single most important guarantee of adequate food supplies overall” (Clark 1990: 27). By

that time, farmers had mastered some preservation techniques (such as salting and

pickling) well enough to preserve quantities of pork and beef sufficient to last through the

spring and summer (McMahon 1985: 48). As a consequence, their earlier reliance on

wild game, fowl and fish were no longer necessary to complete the diet (McMahon 1985:

48). This deseasonalisation of meat procurement coincided with new ideas about diet,

which encouraged variety in both composition and preparation of meals (McMahon

1985: 49). These new ideals related to food and Victorian ideas of the perfect housewife

are evident in contemporary cookbooks such as Mrs. Child’s “The Frugal Housewife”

(1830s) and Susannah Carter’s cookery book of the same title (1803), which include both

traditional English meals and techniques of preparation and the rise of what was

becoming typical American food (Sass 1981: 256).

Urbanization and the rise of capitalism deeply altered animal husbandry practices

in New England. As livestock trade increased, a shift in farming strategy began to take

place, which culminated in the market-oriented specialized production of a certain type of

husbandry, such as beef, milk or wool, around 1820 (Bowen 1994: 158; Clark 1990: 82).

Urban consumers came to depend on standardized market resources, so that the diets of

urban and rural New Englanders began to diverge (Bowen 1998: 138). But as Bowen

49

writes, “that specialization occurred within the context of subsistence-oriented agriculture

and it took many years before farmers began to cease raising a variety of livestock for

consumption in favor of raising a single type of livestock” (1998: 139).

d. Concluding thoughts

The history of the Nipmuc presence in Massachusetts and their adoption of animal

husbandry is deeply entangled within broader colonial events and circumstances, but it is

also deeply personal and the result of individual choices and decisions that have served to

create, reformulate and reproduce Nipmuc identity through time. This chapter has served

as a contextualization of the site and its inhabitant’s foodways recovered through

zooarchaeological remains. As we will examine later, the foodways recovered from Sarah

Boston’s farmstead provide another line of evidence for the dynamic character of Nipmuc

identity, but first the archaeological work carried out on the site must be presented,

followed by the methods and results of the zooarchaeological analysis.

50

CHAPTER 4

ARCHAEOLOGICAL INVESTIGATIONS AT

HASSANAMESIT WOODS AND THE MUCKAMAUG SITE

a. The Hassanamesit Woods Project

The Hassanamesit Woods Project was created following the purchase of the 203-

acre parcel of land located on the eastern slope of Keith Hill by the Town of Grafton in

2003. The project arose as a collaboration between the Nipmuc Tribal Council, the Town

of Grafton, and the Fiske Center for Archaeological Research at the University of

Massachusetts Boston. One of the major goals of this collaborative effort has been to

create a public educational hiking trail through the Woods that highlights the

environmental and cultural history of Nipmuc land, while disturbing the landscape as

little as possible (Law 2008: 61). In order to do so, Fiske Center archaeologists have

since then surveyed and excavated the property, both identifying its prehistoric and

historic resources and endeavoring to develop a more inclusive history of the Nipmuc

51

people that features their presence in the landscape and historical records (Law et al.

2008: 3). Following the archaeological finds and recent shift in focus to the Muckamaug

Site, a more specific goal of the project has been to recover information concerning the

lives and history of four historically documented households headed by a succession of

Nipmuc women between 1728 and 1850 (Law et al. 2008: 5).

The collaborative aspect of this project is key in ensuring that the Nipmuc people

play an active role in the making of their own history. In order to achieve a level of

communication and partnership that reaches beyond archaeological research, Fiske

Center archaeologists have met with the Nipmuc Tribal Council yearly, and Nipmuc and

local residents have been invited to participate in excavations every season (Law 2008:

60-1). Moreover, academic work must receive approval of the Tribal Preservation Officer

before publication. Since one of the project’s goals is to educate the public, researchers

also give lectures, and hiking tours have been organized (Law 2008: 61).

Historical documentary research has showed that the Hassanamesit Woods

property was divided into smaller parcels during the colonial period, and that one of those

lands was owned by Sarah and Peter Muckamaug and their matrilineal descendants from

1727 to 1853. It is on this particular parcel of land that archaeologists have identified the

Sarah Boston Farmstead Site, which was occupied during the late 18th and beginning of

the 19th century. The property was sold to the Fiske and Keith families in 1850, and the

new owners used the land as agricultural fields until 1879. In the late 19th century, the

Grafton and Upton railroad ran their line through the property, which has served to define

the eastern boundary of the archaeological project. Later in the 19th and into the 20th

52

century, the Fiskes used the parcel as an apple orchard, and the land was landscaped into

terraces for that purpose, which disturbed the site a great deal (Law 2008: 67).

b. Archaeological work

Archaeological work on the Hassanamesit Woods property started in 2002-2003

with a reconnaissance pedestrian survey (Law et al. 2008: 6). This preliminary survey

was followed in 2004 and 2005 by a Phase I intensive survey executed by the Fiske

Center for Archaeological Research, which entailed historical research focused on

finding the remains of Eliot’s praying town and a total of 386 shovel test pits laid out

across the 106-acre original land of Sarah Robins and Peter Muckamaug (Gary 2005).

Even though no evidence pointing to the praying town was found, this survey confirmed

Native American occupation of this land spanning possibly as far as 8000 years to the

20th century (Gary 2005; Law et al. 2008: 7). Moreover, a cluster of shovel test pits with

high concentrations of material whose location and artifact date range (1790-1830)

corresponded with a historically documented house (figure 4) allowed archaeologists to

identify the site as Sarah Boston’s Farmstead (Law 2008: 62).

From then on, archeological investigations on the Hassanamesit Woods property

took the form of field schools under the supervision of the Fiske Center for

Archaeological Research at the University of Massachusetts Boston, and have focused on

this particular site and surrounding area. The field school started in the spring of 2006 at

which time a 100m grid, oriented to magnetic North was laid out, then divided into

10x10m blocks designated by letters in the order in which they were excavated. These

blocks were then each divided in 25 2x2m test units and each 2x2m unit then got a

53

number designation from 1 to 25, 1 being the unit located in the NW corner of the block,

and 25 the SE corner. Each 2x2m unit was excavated stratigraphically in 10cm arbitrary

levels associated with unique context numbers. Features were bisected and one half

excavated in 5cm arbitrary levels for a greater degree of control over the stratigraphy,

while the other half was removed as flotation samples.

The 17 test units excavated in 2006 were chosen based on previous shovel test pit

results and feature data and aimed at locating and delineating the cellar hole of the house

(Law 2008: 62; Law et al. 2008: 6-7). They yielded an artifact assemblage that dated to

the period between 1790-1830, thus further confirming that the occupation correlated

with the period between the construction of Sarah Burnee and Boston Philips’s house in

1795 and the death of Sarah Boston, their daughter, in 1837 (Law 2008: 63).

The 2007 field school resumed the search for the cellar hole, for which 17

additional units were opened. This, in conjunction with a ground penetrating radar (GPR)

survey, allowed the archaeologists to identify the foundations and yard area of the Sarah

Boston Farmstead, as well as locate the cellar hole, a midden, a possible fire pit and a

granite quarrying area (Law 2008: 63; Law et al. 2008: 6). The recovery of a lead tag

labeled “A. Ellis” (figure 5), which was recognized as the blacksmith Amos Ellis who

was paid in 1803 to install hinges and make nails for repairs on the house (Law 2008:

65), further confirmed the occupation date of early-19th century.

54

Figure 4. Map showing artifact densities on the Muckamaug parcel (Gary 2005).

55

The 2008 and 2009 field schools were both

devoted to finding the bottom of the cellar hole and

defining its boundaries as well as investigating the

organization of space around the house and possibly

identifying outbuildings. More specifically, the goals

for the 2008 excavation were to expose the surface of cellar features and a French drain

on the east side of the house (Law 2010, personal communication). In 2009, the field

school crew aspired to find the bottom of the cellar in order to confirm or deny the

existence of earlier components to the house, as well as resume the investigation of the

yard area north of the house. The search for outbuildings also led to the opening of two

additional units to the South (blocks I and J) (Law 2010, personal communication).

Figure 5. A.ELLIS tag recovered in unit B4

Figure 6. Overview of Sarah Boston's Farmstead in 2008, from NE.

56

Figure 7. The Muckamaug site in 2009, divided into blocks and 2x2m units.

57

c. Interpretations

While the B block yielded only a small number of artifacts in 2006, it was

identified the following year as feature 37, the filled cellar house, characterized by a dark

organic fill and a high concentration of materials (Law et al. 2008). The excavation of

unit B5, which started in 2008 and resumed in 2009, yielded the highest concentration of

faunal remains found on the site so far. A large number of architectural materials such as

nails, window glass and brick fragments were also recovered, as well as artifacts

associated with various household activities such as buttons, ceramics, glass tableware,

iron kettles, metal spoons and knives, and charcoal. It became apparent over the course of

this unit’s excavation that rock alignments oriented in a SE-NW line cut the unit in

approximate halves, which was interpreted at the end of the season as the western wall of

the house (figure 8). Another foundation was identified in unit E2, this time as the

southern wall. Flotation samples from those two units were systematically collected,

though their analysis is still in progress, as is the case for most artifact assemblages

recovered in 2008 and 2009.

Figure 8. Map showing the cellar foundations in units B5 and E2.

58

The C block was mostly excavated over the course of the 2006 and 2007 field

schools and was largely interpreted as an activity area outside the structure used for

disposing of trash and other debris (Law et al. 2008: 43). Specifically, unit C13 was

identified as feature 24, a potential hearth or earth oven that yielded almost exclusively

burned bone and charred botanical remains. Its neighboring unit C14 revealed a large

primary deposition area, interpreted as a sheet midden that showed a high concentration

of artifacts and faunal remains.

Figure 9. Detail of the C block excavation

59

The units excavated in the D Block recovered mostly redware and unrefined

earthenware, which led the archaeologists to interpret this small cluster as an older

component of the farmstead, or possibly a more utilitarian type outbuilding (Law et al.

2008: 66). Blocks F and G appear to be part of the yard area adjacent to the structure.

Specifically, units F 3.5, G22 and G24 showed a high density of secondary and/or tertiary

deposits, which were composed of artifacts in moderate to poor state of preservation.

This area was thus interpreted as a refuse deposition area, and this is further supported by

the small cluster of faunal remains recovered in the area. The two units excavated in the

H Block revealed a large pit feature that was apparently used as a stone quarry, whereas

only a small quantity of artifacts were recovered in units I6 and J9.

d. 2006-2007 Material Culture Analysis

While the analysis of the material culture recovered in 2008 and 2009 is still in

progress, most of the artifacts from the 2006 and 2007 excavations have been examined

and have greatly helped in dating the assemblage and site. Figure 10 shows the number of

artifacts per artifact type recovered during the 2006 and 2007 seasons. Ceramics were the

most ubiquitous artifact types found on the site, with refined earthenware and redware

making up the majority of the assemblage. The examination of the ceramics showed a

variety of vessel forms and decorative treatments that comprised mostly of tableware and

drinking vessels (Law et al. 2008: 64). This pattern suggests that ceramic vessels may

have served a role as facilitators of social exchanges as they may have been used for

entertaining and demonstrate an elevated degree of dining formality in that they would be

used in meals constituted of multiple courses (Law et al. 2008: 64).

60

The glass assemblage is mostly comprised of flat window glass, curved tableware

and glass bottles (whiskey flasks, wine and medicine bottles, and other general glass

bottles), as well as lamp fragments. Much of the assemblage came from the sheet midden

(unit C14), and was examined in detail elsewhere (Law 2008). However the large number

of glass drinking vessels is noteworthy, as it (in conjunction with ceramic vessel forms)

prompted archaeologists to interpret the

Sarah Boston Farmstead as a gathering

center (Law 2008). The presence of

worked glass (figure 11) is also

noteworthy, as it is indicative of a

working knowledge of lithic

technology (Law 2008: 78).

Figure 10. Number of artifacts per type from 2006 (red), 2007 (blue) and combined (green) seasons (Law et al. 2008).

Figure 11. Flaked decanter base

61

Artifacts related to personal adornment, such as buttons and buckle fragments,

were also recovered in great numbers. Interestingly, 62% of the personal adornments

were found in the C and F blocks, and this pattern was interpreted as the result of

seamstressing labors or personal use (Law et al. 2008: 81). Smoking pipes were also

found on the site, though in a smaller quantity, and were in part used for dating. Dating

results were 1780-1820, which conforms to dates recovered by other means (Law et al.

2008: 79). The recovery of a steatite (soapstone) bowl (figure 12) was an interesting find,

as these usually date from precolonial times. There are several possibilities as to how it

got to the Sarah Boston Farmstead; it is possible that it was purchased as a way of

economizing, or it might have been handed down from earlier households, or it is also

possible that the inhabitants of the farmstead unexpectedly found the bowl in the Woods

and kept it as a token of Nipmuc identity (Law et al. 2008: 86).

Figure 12. Steatite bowl.

62

Architectural materials were also recovered in great numbers, especially in the B

and C blocks. These materials included nails, window glass, brick, lead caming and other

material readily identifiable as belonging to the structure (Law et al. 2008: 54). These

materials were particularly useful in locating the structure itself.

e. Conclusion

The archaeological work and complementary documentary research conducted at

the Sarah Boston Farmstead site over the last four years has proven fruitful and has

provided valuable information on the dates of occupation of the site, its inhabitants and

the managing and maintaining of their land. Much effort has been put into recovering and

documenting the world in which the descendants of Sarah Robins and Peter Muckamaug

lived: their history and that of their land, the ways in which they interacted with the

community (in particular Nipmuc women) (Law 2008) and how they negotiated the

burgeoning capitalist economy (Pezzarossi 2008). However there is still one area of

everyday practices that has not yet been thoroughly examined, and that is activities

related to foodways and animal husbandry through the analysis of the faunal remains

recovered on the site. The following chapter thus presents such an analysis and uses it to

enrich the interpretation of the site and the lives of its inhabitants.

63

CHAPTER 5

METHODS AND RESULTS

The present analysis of the faunal remains from Sarah Boston’s Farmstead is a

result of the accumulation of data from four archaeological field seasons at the site. The

faunal remains from the 2006 and 2007 seasons were compiled and preliminarily

analyzed by Ryan Kennedy (former graduate student at UMass Boston), while I

examined the faunal remains from the 2008 and 2009 field seasons. The analysis

described here thus combines the two datasets and aims to reveal different patterns from

the overall assemblage that can be related to the foodways of the inhabitants of the Sarah

Boston Farmstead, as well as some clues as to the depositional process at the site.

a. Methods and analysis

The analysis of the faunal remains started with the careful on-site recovery of

bone and shell specimens. The soil from general units was systematically passed through

1/4-inch mesh screens, whereas the matrix coming from features and units with a higher

concentration of material were screened through a 1/8-inch mesh. Although this strategy

may have impacted the rate of recovery of smaller specimens from lower-concentration

64

units, this does not seem to affect the general pattern, as most of the faunal remains

analyzed here came from high-concentration units. Indeed, the cellar hole (units B10, B5,

E1 and E2 in particular) (figure 13) yielded 45% of the overall faunal assemblage, and

8% of the specimens came from a sheet midden situated in the C-Block (in particular unit

C13 and C14), which yielded the highest concentration of artifacts from this block (Gary

2005; Law 2008: 65-66). A concentration also occurred in the area around southern G-

block and northern F-block, in which units G22, G24, F3.5 and F2/7 combined provided

14 % of the assemblage. This area was previously interpreted as secondary or tertiary

refuse deposition area (Law et al. 2008: 38). The rest of the remains seem to have been

scattered all over the site, with no other discernible pattern.

Laboratory and statistical analyses of the faunal remains were done in accordance

with general zooarchaeological recording protocols (Reitz and Wing: 1999; Klein and

Cruz-Uribe: 1984). These began with the recording of the elements represented,

taxonomic identifications, specimen counts, bone surface modifications and traces left by

taphonomic agents, anatomical features of age, and specimen weight (Reitz and Wing,

1999: 147). In order to identify the different taxa in the assemblage, various reference

books were used (Hillson 1986; 1992; Gilbert 1990; Reitz and Wing 1999) but most of

the identification was achieved by comparing the archaeological specimens with the

University of Massachusetts Boston’s zooarchaeological comparative collection.

Following Landon (1996), when a specimen could not be identified to a species or genus,

a broader taxonomic category was used, in which case the identification was made to the

family or to animal size-range.

65

In order to address the different activities that are implied in the concept of

foodways, such as procurement, preparation, cooking, disposal and so on, analyses

related to the relative frequency of specimens in the assemblage were carried out. The

NISP, or the number of identified specimens, refers to a basic count of specimens for a

given taxonomic category and is generally used to infer the relative importance of a

species in an assemblage, and as a basis for other calculations (Reitz and Wing 1999).

Many factors can affect the NISP. For instance, it does not take into account that animals

do not all have the same number of bones in their skeletons, and high levels of

fragmentation of certain specimens will over-represent their taxon’s importance in the

assemblage (Klein and Uribe 1984: 25). Cultural practices related to transportation,

butchering, cooking and disposal, as well as non-human taphonomic agents also impact

the specimen count by destroying or dispersing material (Klein and Cruz-Uribe 1984: 64;

Reitz and Wing 1999: 192). For this reason, zooarchaeologists usually use the specimen

count in conjunction with other analyses, such as skeletal part frequency, minimum

number of individuals (MNI), and biomass (Klein and Cruz-Uribe 1984; Reitz and Wing

1999). The analysis of skeletal part frequency can provide information on how butchering

may have impacted the assemblage as well as preferences in cuts of meat, help

distinguish the role of the animal in the assemblage and possibly determine whether the

animals were killed on site or procured in smaller portions elsewhere (Reitz and Wing

1999: 203). For the purpose of this study, the MNI of each species was calculated using

the most highly-represented body part and took into account side, cross-mending

specimens, and age estimates.

66

Figure 13. Excavation map showing proportions of faunal remains per unit.

67

The biomass, as an indicator of dietary contribution based on the weight of bones,

was also calculated. Zooarchaeologists agree that the biomass has its problems, among

which is the fact that the result is based on bone weight, which can vary based on

differential weathering, and that it assumes the use of complete animals (Landon 1996:

141; Reitz and Wing 1999: 225). Nevertheless, this calculation can still help estimate the

potential and relative quantity of meat provided in an assemblage.

b. Taphonomy

Many authors agree that it is important to take a critical view of the factors that

influence bone preservation in order to distinguish human and cultural activities from

non-human forces, as well as to understand the depositional sequence of the assemblage

on the site (Landon 1996: 33; Klein and Cruz-Uribe 1984: 8; Reitz and Wing 1999: 110).

Observations of bone modifications are represented in table 1. The factor that affected the

assemblage the most in terms of modification is burning, with 32% of the faunal remains

showing evidence of fire damage. This type of modification also seems to have impacted

the identification process, as 65% of Indeterminate Vertebrates showed signs of burning.

Indeed, the burning of the bones is partly responsible for their fragmentation and

shrinking, which renders them more difficult to identify to specific taxonomic categories

(Landon 2002: 355; Reitz and Wing 1999: 133). Furthermore, it is likely that in the case

of Sarah Boston’s Farmstead, the burning and calcination of bones was not related to

food preparation, but to the deposition of bone refuse in fires or hearths as a means of

disposal (Landon 2002: 355). This hypothesis seems to be supported by the fact that all

categories of mammals, birds, turtles and fish showed signs of burning with the

68

percentages being as follows: 25% of the mammals were burned, 7% of the birds, 25% of

the turtles, and 3% of the fishes.

Rodent gnawing is next in terms of its effects on the pattern of bone

modifications, with 5.5% of the assemblage showing marks left by rodent teeth. While

rodent gnawing did not generally affect the identification process, as its traces damage

mostly the exterior surface of the bones and not its overall shape, its presence as a

taphonomic agent shows that the faunal remains were relatively easy to access for

scavengers, which supports the idea that the faunal remains were left in open areas for

some time, even those coming from the cellar hole (Landon 1996: 35; Reitz and Wing

1999: 135). This is also corroborated by the presence of carnivore teeth marks, of

Burning Weathering Rodent gnawing Carnivore gnawing Butchery marks

Mammals 928 246 230 65 131 Birds 5 0 12 1 1 Turtles 33 4 3 2 0 Fish 1 1 1 0 0 Indeterminate Vertebrates 548 6 18 1 1

Total 1514 257 264 69 133

which only 1% of the assemblage bore traces. While carnivore gnawing tends to be more

destructive of the bones and can sometimes be confounded with butchery marks, its effect

appears to have been limited to bigger mammals, in particular long bones and sometimes

ribs and vertebrae, so did not affect too profoundly the identification process. Once more,

all classes showed signs of gnawing, with the exception of fish, which, given the small

size of their bones, would probably be completely ingested by carnivores rather than

gnawed on. Animals most likely to gnaw on bones are domestic animals such as pigs,

Table 1. Incidence of bone surface modifications for each taxonomic category.

69

dogs and cats, but also wild scavengers such as other canids, raccoons, squirrels, beavers,

mice and rats, porcupines, and rabbits and hares (Reitz and Wing 1999: 134). So, even

though their presence did not greatly impact the identification process, the presence of

scavengers on the site means that these animals may have introduced material to the site,

moved specimens or destroyed them (Reitz and Wing 1999: 135). At this point it is

difficult to determine the extent of scavengers’ impact on the assemblage, but it is

important to consider their role in the difference between the probable living assemblage

and the archaeological assemblage.

Weathering also had a minimal impact on the identification process, as only 5% of

the faunal remains showed various stages of weathering, though all classes were affected

with the exception of bird bones. Weathering occurs when bones are left in open areas

that are subjected to the force of the elements, particularly to alternations between wet

and dry and hot and cold conditions (Reitz and Wing 1999: 139). The changes of seasons

that characterize the New England climate could thus have an impact on unprotected

bones. However, the fact that only a small portion of bones shows signs of weathering

Figure 14. Bones showing traces of carnivore (left) and rodent (right) gnawing.

70

suggests that most of the bones were redeposited in a protected or covered area after

being left susceptible to the elements and scavengers for a relatively short period of time.

Lastly, bone modifications related to

butchering practices also showed on the bones,

though 98.5 % of them were recorded on

mammal bones. Only 1 bird bone showed

butchery marks and none were recorded on

remains from other classes. Butchery marks

are examined in further details later in this

chapter, but it may be relevant to note at this point that weathering and gnawing may

have made some butchery marks disappear, or render the cause of other marks, especially

cuts and scrapes, ambiguous.

A comparison of the traces left by taphonomic agents between those units that are

known to be outside and inside the house foundations yielded some interesting results

(figure 16). Units considered to be inside were those units making up most of the cellar

hole (B5, E1, E2), some ambiguous units (B10, C24, C25, F21) were not inserted in any

category, while the rest of the units were considered to be outside the foundations. The

results show that evidence of burning occurred both inside and outside the house, with a

higher proportion found outside. This not only supports the idea of an outdoor hearth or

fire pit in addition to the one in the house, but also suggests a mode of disposal of faunal

remains by throwing them into a fire and then disposing of the burned material by

throwing it outside. The marked difference between occurrences of weathering from

Figure 15. Bones showing the effects of weathering.

71

within and outside the house supports the idea that the inhabitants of the site left most of

their residential debris without protection from the elements instead of covering them or

burying them in pits. This would leave the bones vulnerable to foot trampling,

Burning Occurrences of weathering

Butchery marks

Average weight

Inside 31% 12% 75% 1.8 g Outside 53% 83% 19% 1.9 g Ambiguous units 13% 5% 6% 1.6 g

scavengers, and the elements (Reitz and Wing 1999: 113). While occurrences of

weathering are not as important inside the house, the fact that there is some evidence of

weathering indicates that these were also exposed, at least for a time, to the elements.

Evidence of butchery marks also presents a marked different in the percentages,

with the high majority of bones bearing butchery marks inside the foundations. While this

may be a product of food preparation and disposal practices, the lower number of

butchery marks recorded for outside units may also be a result of the higher degree of

weathering on those bones, as weathering affects the surface of the bones and may erase

traces left by butchering activities.

Given the comparable amounts of bone fragments recovered inside and outside

the foundation, the average weight suggests a comparable degree of fragmentation and

number of unidentified remains (40% of unidentified bones inside and 56% outside the

foundations). Many factors can influence weight, including burning, weathering and the

presence of smaller animals like birds, fish and small mammals whose bones weigh less.

An examination of the distribution of animal species showed that medium and small

mammals, fish, birds and turtles had a much better rate of recovery inside the foundation,

Figure 16. Effects of taphonomic agents inside and outside the known cellar foundations

72

and that 60% of the large mammals were recovered outside. This indicates that the

preservation was probably much better inside the cellar, which protected and preserved

bones that tend to be more vulnerable to destruction by taphonomic agents and which

were probably destroyed outside if left in unprotected scattered deposits.

This supports zooarchaeologists’ observations that refuse deposited in pits, wells

and latrines tends to show a more complete picture of the assemblage, as it is partially

protected from damage (see also Landon 1996: 33). The units that showed a high

concentration and high level of bone preservation came from the inside of the house

(from the cellar hole in fact), whereas the rest of the assemblage came from all areas of

the site which suggests that home refuse was often disposed of by indiscriminate

broadcast or in open features outside.

Thus, as we consider the taphonomic agents described above, it seems probable

that most of the faunal remains were disposed of in a number of ways; they may have

been tossed in hearths or fire, and then scattered outside the house, or simply left in

scatters or refuse piles outside the house without burning them first, which may have

attracted scavengers as well as explain the presence of weathering on some of the bones.

However, given the high proportion of unweathered bones inside, it also seems likely that

the cellar hole was filled in a relatively rapid sequence, either with materials that were

left for a short period of time at the mercy of the elements, or with new material (Landon

2002: 356).

73

c. Taxonomic representation

A total of 4795 specimens make up the overall faunal remain assemblage at the

Sarah Boston Farmstead site, 894 (19%) of which could not be identified to any

categories more specific than Indeterminate Vertebrate because of high levels of

fragmentation or other factors discussed above. The rest of the assemblage was identified

to class, genus and/or species, and in the case of some of the mammalian bones to general

animal size.

Mammals, with a total

count of 3619 specimens,

make up 93% of the identified

assemblage and are

dominated by pig, cattle and

sheep/goat, as well as

fragments of unspecified

medium and large mammals.

The majority of the bones belonging to size categories correspond to cranial, rib,

vertebral and long bone shaft fragments that lacked diagnostic features and therefore

could not be identified to a specific species. However, it is likely that these are in fact

cow, pig, sheep/goat and possibly deer bones, animals which are all represented in the

assemblage (table 2).

Cattle bones make up about 8% of the mammalian assemblage and represent a

minimum of 7 individuals, and the highest proportion of the assemblage weight (42.7%).

Large mammals

31%

Large-Medium

mammals 7%

Medium mammals

51%

Medium-Small

mammals 1%

Small mammals

10%

Figure 17. Representation of identified mammals per category.

74

Sheep and/or goat make up about 3% of the identified mammalian assemblage, and

represent at least 6 individuals. Given the great similarities between sheep and goat

skeletons, bones were not identified to the species but rather gathered under the caprine

category. Pig bones equal cow bones both in proportion and MNI, with 8% of the

mammalian assemblage and at least 7 individuals. The medium mammal category, which

probably corresponds to both pig and caprines and possibly deer, makes up 8% of the

mammalian assemblages, so that this number skews the relative frequency for those

animals, but does not affect the MNI. White-tailed deer is also represented in the

assemblage, though in lower proportions than domesticates, with less than 1% of

mammal remains and a MNI of 1. Other mammalian bones correspond to smaller

mammals, including small carnivores (Mustelids and skunks), small rodents (Pine vole,

squirrels and chipmunks), as well as woodchucks and rabbits. A “small mammal”

category was also used for those bones that could not be positively identified. Overall,

large mammals, when including cattle, make up 31% of the identified mammal bones,

medium mammals (pig, sheep/goat, deer and unspecified medium mammals) 51%, and

small mammals 10% (figure 17). The medium-large category make up 7%, while the

small-medium category make up for less than 1% of the mammalian assemblage.

The birds, with 76 identified specimens, make up 2% of the identified

assemblage. These mostly comprise of ducks, geese, turkeys and galliformes such as

chicken and pheasants, but smaller birds are also represented, notably pigeons and

possibly a blue jay. The pigeon bones probably belong to Ectopistes migratorius,

passenger pigeon, as this bird was present and consumed in large numbers in New

75

England (Cronon 1983: 23; Farb and Armelagos 1980: 196; Landon 1996: 39). However

as its bones are very similar to Columba livia, domestic or rock dove, they were

identified to the broader category of Columbidae. About 50% of the bird bones remain

unspecified because of fragmentation or lack of diagnostic features.

The reptile assemblage is completely made up of turtle bones, both shell and

skeletal remains. With 133 specimens, the turtles make up 3% of the identified

assemblage and are divided in a number of species such as painted, spotted, wood, and

eastern box turtles. However, 60% of the turtle bones remain unspecified. The identified

species represent a variety of habitats, ranging from open woodland and meadows to

ponds, lakes and slow moving rivers, with some turtles being semi-terrestrial (Turtle

Conservation Project website). They would thus have been locally available and

relatively easy to catch (Kuhn and Funk 2000: 37). With an MNI of 9 turtles, it is

difficult to overlook the importance of those reptiles in the assemblage or their role in it.

While no butchery marks were found on the remains, many shell fragments showed signs

of burning, which suggests that they were probably eaten. The amphibian class is

represented by two specimens belonging to either frogs or toads. While it is possible that

they were consumed, they may also have died on the site naturally and become part of the

assemblage.

Fishes make up 1% of the identified assemblage, of which about 40% was

identified to family or species when diagnostic parts of the head were present. Saltwater

fishes are also present, including mackerel and fishes belonging to the cod and haddock

family. Freshwater fishes such as catfish or bullheads and fish belonging to the perch

76

family are also present, and in slightly greater numbers. Like the turtles, these fish would

have been locally available, either through fishing or in the case of haddock and mackerel

through the growing fish industry in the Boston area (Landon 1996: 43, 46).

A number of shells (1% of the identified assemblage) were also recovered, 34% of

which could be identified as oysters, 11% could be identified as fresh water mussels, and

about 54% could not be specified.

d. Skeletal Representation

The relative frequency of body parts can provide information on the effects of

taphonomy as well as cultural practices, such as butchering, food preparation and

disposal habits. It also sometimes allows distinguishing the particular role of a given

taxon (Reitz and Wing 1999: 202-3). Were some of them used for food or other economic

activities such as dairying? Were they killed on site or was the meat procured in discrete

cuts at the local market? By looking at the differential frequency of body parts, the

analysis of the butchery marks, and ageing profiles, the next section provides answers to

these questions.

Body part representation is affected by the preservation of the skeleton, as the

probability of a bone being preserved is directly related to its robusticity (Landon 1996:

46). Hence, very robust bones, such as teeth, tend to be overrepresented, whereas delicate

bones, like those of a juvenile for instance, tend to be more affected by destructive forces

and thus underrepresented in the assemblage. This impacts not only the proportion of

body parts for any given taxon, but also the ageing profile if it is only based on bone

fusion and not combined with tooth eruption sequences and tooth wear.

77

Taxon Common name NISP NISP %

Total

NISP %

class MNI %

MNI Weight

(g) %

WT Biomass

(kg)

% Bio

mass Bos taurus Cattle 295 6.00 8.00 7 11.5 3701.0 42.70 42.8 39.0

c.f. Bos taurus 7 0.20 0.20 - - 41.0 0.50 0.8 1.0

Odocoileus virginianus White-tailed Deer 6 0.10 0.20 1 1.6 25.1 0.30 0.5 0.5

C.f.Odocoileus virginianus 1 0.02 0.02 - - 6.7 0.08 0.2 0.2

Capra/Ovis Sheep/goat 114 2.00 3.00 6 9.8 329.0 3.80 4.8 4.0

Sus scrofa Pig 301 6.00 8.00 7 11.5 1193.0 13.80 15.4 14.0

Mustelidae Mustelids 2 0.04 0.06 1 1.6 2.8 0.03 0.1 0.1

Mephitis mephitis Skunk 16 0.30 0.40 2 3.3 11.1 0.10 0.2 0.2

Microtus pinetorum Pine vole 2 0.04 0.06 1 1.6 0 0 0 0

Marmota monax Woodchuck 16 0.30 0.40 2 3.3 24.1 0.30 4.2 4.0

Sciurus sp. Squirrel 3 0.06 0.08 1 1.6 0 0 0 0

Sylvilagus floridanus Cottontail rabbit 32 0.70 0.90 3 4.9 10.5 0.10 0.3 0.2

Tamias striatus Chipmunk 2 0.04 0.06 1 1.6 0 0 0 0

Small mammals, unspecified 68 1.00 1.90 - - 20.0 0.30 0.4 0.4

Small-Medium mammals, unspecified 10 0.20 0.30 - - 5.3 0.06 0.1 0.1

Medium mammals, unspecified 289 6.00 8.00 - - 464.0 5.40 6.6 6.0

Medium-Large mammals, unspecified 97 2.00 3.00 - - 228.0 2.60 3.5 3.0

Large mammals, unspecified 123 3.00 3.00 - - 830.0 9.60 11.1 10.0

Mammals, not specified 2235 47.00 62.00 - - 1423.0 16.40 18.1 16.0

Anatidae Duck family 5 0.10 7 - 1.6 2.1 0.010 0.02

Anas sp. Duck 1 0.02 1 1 1.6 0.1 0.001 0

c.f. Mergus sp. Merganser 1 0.02 1 1 1.6 0.5 0.006 0

Anserinae/Anatidae Goose or Duck 2 0.04 3 - 1.6 1.3 0.020 0.02

Branta canadensis Canadian goose 1 0.02 1 1 1.6 1.2 0.014 0.02

Columbidae Pigeon 4 0.08 5 1 1.6 1.3 0.020 0.02 Corvidae c.f. Cyanocitta cristata Blue Jay 1 0.02 1 1 1.6 0 0 0

Galliformes Game fowl 7 0.15 9 - 1.6 2.3 0.030 0.04 c.f. Phasianus colchius Pheasant 1 0.02 1 1 1.6 0.5 0.006 0

c.f. Gallus gallus Chicken 3 0.06 4 1 - 5.8 0.070 0.10

Gallus gallus Chicken 9 0.19 12 2 3.3 10.2 0.120 0.20

Meleagris gallopavo Turkey 2 0.04 3 1 1.6 10.1 0.100 0.10

Bird - Unspecified 39 0.82 51 - - 10.0 0.120 0.20

total bird biomass and %: 0.7

Chrysemys picta Painted turtle 7 0.15 5 2 3.3 13.7 0.16 -

Clemmys sp. 4 0.08 3 1 1.6 3.2 0.04 -

Clemmys guttata Spotted turtle 19 0.40 14 2 3.3 5.3 0.06 -

Glyptemys insculpta Wood turtle 11 0.23 8 3 4.9 9.0 0.10 -

Terrapene carolina Eastern box turtle 8 0.17 6 1 1.6 4.8 0.06 -

Testudines Unspecified Turtles 84 1.76 63 24.2 0.28 -

total turtle biomass and %: 0.5

78

Ranidae (Frog) Frog/toad 2 0.04 100 1 1.6 0.1 0.001 0 0

Gadidae Cod family 4 0.08 11 1 1.6 1.1 0.010 - Melanogrammus aeglefinus Haddock 1 0.02 3 1 1.6 1.4 0.020 -

Ictaluridae Catfish or Bullhead 7 0.15 19 3 4.9 0.5 0.006 -

Moronidae Perch family 1 0.02 3 1 1.6 0.1 0.001 -

Scomber scombrus Mackerel 1 0.02 3 1 1.6 0 0 -

Unspecified fish 22 0.46 61 - - 1.6 0.020 -

total fish biomass and %: 0.1

Vertebrate, unspecified 894 18.7 - - - 214.0 2.50 -

Fresh Water Mussel 4 0.08 11 - - 1.2 0.014 -

Oyster 12 0.25 34 - - 30.7 0.400 -

Unspecified shell 19 0.40 54 - - 1.2 0.010 -

Total 4795 59 8672 g 110.34 kg

Body part representation is also affected by cultural practices, notably whether the

animal was killed on site, in which case the carcass tends to be more complete,

butchering practices, such as beheading or cutting off the feet before the carcass arrives

on site, or a preference for a specific cut of meat (Reitz and Wing 1999: 203).

The skeletal representation for birds, fish and amphibians shows that for most

animals every region of the body was represented, which suggests that those animals

probably died on site and that the level of preservation in the cellar hole was quite high.

Otherwise, smaller bones and those that are more vulnerable to taphonomic agents would

not have been represented.

Turtle body part representation follows the same pattern, that is to say that the

relative completeness of the skeleton suggests that they were killed on site. The low

proportion of head bones might be due to differential preservation, but could also

represent a different treatment of the head at the time of its preparation and disposal. For

Table 2. Taxonomic representation of the Sarah Boston Farmstead assemblage.

79

instance, Susannah Carter’s (1803: 54-6) section on how to cook a turtle suggests the

removal of the head before boiling.

The same analysis was performed

for mammals, and with generally the

same results. Bos taurus, or cattle, shows

the most complete representation of the

skeleton of the domesticates, with a

relatively even distribution of body parts,

except for an overrepresentation of isolated

teeth. The foot bones, which include metapodials, podials and phalanges, make up 35%

of the cattle body parts, long bones 11%, body (vertebrae, ribs, pelvic bones, scapulae)

12%, and head and teeth 42% (figure 18). While the proportions of the foot and head

regions stand out, this is probably due to the fact that there is a higher number of bones in

cattle feet (52 for one cow) and teeth than there are long bones and other post-cranial

elements. Therefore a higher proportion of those bones is to be expected if one considers

that the entire carcass is present. This also shows that preservation was probably not an

important factor in the skeletal representation, as all parts of the skeleton were recovered.

The large mammal category completes this picture with an emphasis on rib and long bone

fragments that probably belonged to Bos taurus, but could not be positively identified as

such. This suggests that at least some of the cows were slaughtered on site: however the

high number of tibias and metapodials also suggest some preference for the hindquarter,

which may have been acquired in discrete cuts of meat elsewhere.

Head (including

teeth) 42%

Body 12%

Forelimb 3%

Hindlimb 6%

Long bones

2%

Foot 35%

Figure 18. Cattle skeletal representation by anatomical region.

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Sheep and/or goat bones are also distributed relatively evenly across the skeleton,

with an overrepresentation of teeth, which are more robust so tend to survive better, and

are easily recognizable. The rest of the body part representation must be complemented

by the medium mammal category (figure 19). Even though some pig and deer bones

probably make up part of this category, most of them are most likely sheep and/or goat.

When considering the medium mammal category, and to a certain extent the medium-

large category, it becomes clear that sheep and/or goat cranial bones, vertebrae, ribs and

long bones are underrepresented, and it not necessarily a result of differential

preservation or cultural practices but rather of the identification process. As for most of

the taxa of the assemblage, the sheep/goat skeletal representation suggests that these

animals were killed on site.

With easily distinguishable teeth, it follows that the pig skeletal representation be

dominated by the head region (figure 20). The post-cranial elements are otherwise

distributed in an expected fashion, with a high proportion of foot bones and long bones

Head (including

teeth) 43%

Body 14% Forelimb

4%

Hindlimb 2%

Long bones 15%

Foot 14%

NID 8%

Head (including

teeth) 59%

Body 5%

Forelimb 6%

Hindlimb 4%

Long bones

1%

Foot 25%

Figure 19. Medium mammal skeletal representation by anatomical region.

Figure 20. Pig skeletal representation by anatomical region.

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making up 11% of the pig assemblage. Like the sheep/goat, the low number of vertebral

elements and other elements of the axial body makes more sense when we consider the

animal size categories, in which there is probably a small number of pig bones, especially

vertebrae and long bones. Once more the completeness of the skeleton suggests that the

pigs were slaughtered on site.

The small mammal skeletal representation follows the same pattern of skeleton

completeness, with every anatomical region being represented once more supporting

evidence of high levels of preservation and the on-site death of the animals. As with the

other mammals of the assemblage, the head region dominates the representation, even

though the occurrence of isolated teeth was much more rare in the case of small

mammals, so that the head region was represented here by cranial bones, mandibles and

maxilla. The rabbit has the highest number of elements, and also appears to be the most

complete skeleton of the small mammal assemblage.

e. Butchery marks

The analysis of the Sarah Boston Farmstead faunal remains shows that 4% of the

mammalian bones bear butchery marks. Butchery patterns are directly related to the

slaughter and processing of the carcass for consumption or disposal. While the anatomy

of the animals places some constraints on the way that the carcass is prepared, butchering

is also a cultural practice influenced by meat preferences and experience (Landon 1996:

58). In this section, the butchery marks are examined for those animals that bore them:

cattle, pigs, sheep/goat and deer. None of the smaller mammals had butchery marks, but

this does not necessarily means that they were not consumed as there might not have

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been the need to butcher them into smaller portions in order to cook them. Moreover,

certain methods of cooking, such as boiling before boning, also reduce the number of

butchery marks on bones (Landon 1996: 94). This also applies to the other classes; only 1

bird specimen, a turkey tibiotarsus, showed cut marks, but none were visible on the turtle,

fish and frog bones.

Four types of butchery marks were recorded for the Sara Boston Farmstead

assemblage: cut marks (straight and narrow incised lines), chop marks (small wedges of

bone removed), shear marks (in cases where the bone was chopped through), and saw

marks or series of striations left by a toothed cutting tool (Landon 1996: 59). The

butchery marks were observed under a low-power microscope in order to determine if the

type of tool used could be identified. Cuts left by metal tools were easily recognizable

and make for the majority of the marks (67%). The rest of the cut marks were either

ambiguous or the bones too weathered to distinguish the type of tool with certainty.

There is a possibility that some of these were made by stone or glass tools, but no stone

tool or flakes were found on the site, which reduces the plausibility of that hypothesis. As

for glass tools, a small quantity of worked glass was found at the Sarah Boston site (see

Law 2008) that may have been used as scrapers or knives, but it is difficult to say

whether they might have been used on bone.

Butchery marks were present on 12% of cattle bones and on all elements with the

exception of the radii-ulnae, cranium and carpals. Figure 21 shows the general location

and frequency of each occurrence of butchery marks on cattle remains as well as their

type. It appears that all stages of butchery are represented on cattle bones; from the initial

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slaughter and skinning, to the first major division of the carcass into specific portions,

and to the final division before or during consumption (Landon 1996: 58-9). Particularly,

the first stage is represented by cut marks on metapodials and phalanges, which can be

attributed to the skinning of the animal. Then chop, shear and saw marks along the

vertebral column and sacrum suggest the longitudinal splitting of the carcass, whereas

chop and cut marks on the ribs suggest that the rib slab was cut free. The division of the

carcass into specific portions is also well represented as various marks left from the

disarticulation were observed: a saw mark on the distal end of the scapula suggests its

disarticulation from the humerus, as does the shear mark on the distal end of the humerus

suggest that it was disarticulated from the radius-ulna. The same pattern occurs for the

hindlimbs, as shear and saw marks on the acetabulum suggest a disarticulation of the

femur, or a division of the innominate bone after the femur was removed. The chop

marks on the mandible were presumably left by the practice of freeing the jowl meat with

the bone in place. Evidence of the carcass being divided into smaller portions is also

evident, first with perpendicular cuts across the vertebral column, further marks possibly

left by the division of the rib slab into two or three sections, and a chop mark on the

humerus shaft that suggests its division into smaller portions. Lastly, the third stage, or

butchery marks left at the time of the preparation for consumption, is represented by a

shearing of the scapula blade, as if into thick steaks or roasts, a practice that became more

popular at the end of the 18th century and early 19th century (Landon 1996: 75). Also, cuts

on a femur shaft suggest that they were done when the meat was cut off the bone for

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cooking or consumption, and the chopping of long bones and metapodials in mid-shaft

suggest that it was done in order to get to the marrow (Landon 1996: 72-91).

The same pattern emerges from the sheep/goat butchery marks (figure 22):

however no marks were clearly caused at the time of skinning. The marks rather show a

pattern of initial dismemberment and division of the carcass into smaller portions: the

chopping though the mandible to free jowl meat, the disarticulation of the scapula from

the humerus, the disarticulation of the pelvis either from the vertebral column or the

femur, and the disarticulation of the tibia from the metatarsals by chopping through the

joint or through the distal end of the tibia. The scrape marks on the tibia may be related to

the preparation of a ‘leg of mutton.’

Figure 21. General location, frequency and type of butchery marks for cattle.

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This pattern is also present on the pig (figure 23). Some marks hint at the skinning of the

animal, such as cut marks on the metapodials, and possibly the shear mark on the maxilla,

which might have been left when cutting free the animal’s hide (Landon 1996). The cut

mark on one of the phalanges might also have been left at the time of the skinning,

though it is also possible that it was done at the time of the preparation of the foot for

consumption (Landon 1996: 82). Several marks speak to the dismemberment and division

Figure 22. General location, frequency and type of butchery marks for caprines.

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of the carcass into smaller portions, such as a cut mark at the distal end of the humerus,

the shear mark on the radius shaft, and a shearing through the calcaneum that would have

separated the foot and hock from the rest of the leg (Landon 1996: 89). The marks left on

the ribs suggest that these were also processed, and the saw mark at the proximal end of

one rib suggest that these were probably cut into smaller portions of meat. The chopping

of the anterior portion of the mandible is the most common of marks on the Sarah Boston

Farmstead pigs, presumably in order to free the meat of the jowl (Landon 1996: 69).

Another interesting pattern is that of the breaking of lower third molars before they were

fully erupted, as all of those teeth were recovered in either two or three parts. While these

appear to have been sheared through, it is also possible that other destructive forces may

have caused the break. Lastly, cut marks on the femur suggest that it was processed for

cooking, and some of the shorn long bones and metapodials might have been chopped

through in order to access the marrow.

Figure 23. General location, frequency and type of butchery marks for pigs.

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While deer is represented only by a few bones, those specimens did show some

butchery marks. The cut marks on the phalanx were probably left at the time of skinning

(Pavao-Zuckerman 2007: 21), whereas the shearing and chopping of a cervical vertebra

may be due to the longitudinal splitting of the carcass. Lastly, repetitive cut marks along

the femur shaft were probably done at the time of meat preparation.

While there are some minor differences between the treatment of the butchered

animals’ carcasses, the patterns described above show that whoever was slaughtering and

butchering these animals was doing it in a consistent manner across species. The fact that

all three stages of butchering are represented also supports the earlier suggestion that

these animals were killed on site, and that the meat was generally not acquired in discrete

cuts elsewhere.

f. Ageing and kill-off patterns

Age is an important aspect of zooarchaeological analysis as it permits scholars to

understand and characterize husbandry practices such as dairying, meat-production, draft

and wool production (Landon 1996: 96; Payne 1973). The determination of age profiles

for domesticates was done by using epiphyseal fusion and tooth eruption and wear

sequences, which are well documented for those animals.

While the Sarah Boston Farmstead assemblage contains a fair number of

specimens belonging to domesticates, only a few of them had fusion information, so that

the sample range ended up being rather small, especially for caprines. For this reason, the

epiphyseal fusion data was complemented by that of tooth eruption sequences and tooth

wear in order to fill in the gaps if such gaps existed. Toothrows generally give the most

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detailed profiles, but as only a few toothrows were recovered (between 3 and 6) for each

species, the present analysis focuses primarily on isolated teeth, for which age ranges are

not as specific. Moreover, despite the robusticity of teeth, many had to be eliminated

from the age data because of surface weathering that prevented tooth wear analysis. Of

the 27 teeth that could not be determined, 13 belonged to cattle and 11 to caprines.

However the presence of these teeth (i.e. their eruption stage) was still considered in the

overall age profiles. In the end, 26 teeth were taken into consideration for cattle age

profiles, 25 for caprines, and 59 for pigs.

For cattle, the combined dataset provides a relative age profile shown in figure 24.

This suggests that at least 1 individual was killed before or at the age of 6 months. The

42-48 months range was provided by epiphyseal fusion of the tibia, and because the two

tibias came from the right side, it is possible to say that at least 2 individuals were older

than 42-48 months at the time of their death. The rest of the data suggests that the

majority of the cattle were killed between 18-42 months old.

Figure 24. Relative age profiles for cattle.

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Most of the caprine specimens from the assemblage were not identified as either

sheep or goat as both species are morphologically similar, but this affects the level of

precision of the age profiles, since their bones do not fuse at the same age, nor do their

teeth erupt at the same time. Therefore, the tooth and fusion data are considered

independently from each other. The tooth data (figure 25) show that at least 1 individual

was killed in his first year, 1 around 3-4 years old and 1 older than 4 years old. The rest

of the data suggests that other individuals were killed between 1 and 4 years old. The

bone fusion data (figure 26) are divided in broader ranges in terms of juveniles (early

fusing period), subadults (middle fusing) and adults (late fusing), which overcomes the

differences between sheep and goat. Despite the small number of elements represented,

this data supports the tooth eruption and wear pattern in that at least 1 individual was a

juvenile under 16 months, 1 subadult under 3 years old, and 1 adult.

Figure 25. Caprine age profiles based on tooth wear and tooth emergence sequence.

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The pig data (figure 27) show remarkable consistency in the kill-off pattern.

With the exception of 1 individual older or aged between 24-30 months, the majority

of the animals seemed to have been slaughtered between 12-24 months.

Figure 26. Caprine age profiles based on epiphyseal fusion.

Figure 27. Combined relative age profiles for pigs.

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g. Discussion

The following discussion addresses the different components implied by the term

foodways as they can be interpreted from the Sarah Boston Farmstead zooarchaeological

evidence. The concept of foodways goes beyond mere diet and rather encompasses the

range of activities related to food: its production/procurement, distribution, preparation,

consumption and disposal, and how those decisions relate to past social and cultural

values (Bowen 1996: 88; Landon 1996: 3).

Production and procurement

The procurement of meat at the Sarah Boston Farmstead appears to have relied

heavily on animal husbandry and the inhabitants’ management of their livestock. As the

analysis of the butchery marks left on the bones has showed, every stage of butchering

was represented on the site, which suggests that the inhabitants themselves slaughtered

and processed their animals for their meat. This is not entirely surprising as most rural

farmers in 17th and 18th centuries practiced a subsistence-oriented agriculture, a practice

that lasted until farmers became more involved with the local and urban markets in the

late-18th century, which encouraged them to intensify and specialize their livestock

raising towards a specific product (Bowen 1994: 154; 1998: 139; McMahon 1985: 29). In

her study of rural New England diet, McMahon further suggests that by the late-18th

century, most households had enough domestic animals to provide a nearly constant

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supply of meat (1985: 37), so that farmers could slaughter and barrel quantities of meat

sufficient to last through the year (1985: 45).

Subsistence-oriented animal husbandry is also supported by the age profiles

provided for each domesticate. Of these animals, only pigs and chicken seemed to have

been raised for food alone, whereas cattle and caprines probably fulfilled multiple

purposes. When practicing a subsistence-oriented agriculture economy, cattle and

caprines could be raised of course for meat, but also for dairying, draft, and in the case of

sheep for wool-production. At Sarah Boston’s Farmstead, cattle were probably used both

for dairying and meat, as is suggested by the presence of all age ranges. The presence of

juveniles and older animals corresponds with the kill-off pattern associated with dairying

(Bowen 1998: 142; Payne 1973), as farmers would slaughter the calves both for their

meat and access to the milk. In her study of cattle husbandry, Bowen further argues that

in rural New England the majority of households kept at least one cow, from which they

produced milk and bull calves, which they castrated to become oxen when they matured.

After the animals had served their purpose, they were then slaughtered for meat (Bowen

1998: 142). It is then also possible that instead or in addition of being milk cows, the

older animals of the assemblage were oxen past their prime used as beasts of burden

(Bowen 1994:160). An anonymous account in the Historical Papers of the Grafton

History Club recounts how oxen were the “farmer’s beast of burden, which did all the

drudgery on the farm, hauling wood, loam, hay and fertilizer; the rocky fields in New

England were cleaned with yokes of oxen, the rocks were blasted and stone walls were

laid dividing the various fields” (Anonymous, Grafton History Club Historical papers

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[n.d], 8). The cattle kill-off pattern also suggests that most of the cattle were slaughtered

in their prime (under 4 years old), probably for meat (Bowen 1998: 142). Beef played a

prominent role in New England diet, presumably as an English legacy (Bowen 1994: 157;

1998: 142; McMahon 1985), and the zooarchaelogical evidence from the site suggests

that it was also an important part of the Nipmuc diet in the late 18th and early 19th

centuries.

The same pattern emerges for the caprines, with all ranges of ages being present.

While it is possible that goats were present on the site, historical evidence suggests that

sheep were much more popular in New England, so it is highly possible that Sarah

Boston’s caprines were in fact sheep (Anderson 2004: 148). Wool production was an

important New England economic activity (Bowen 1998: 147) described by the

anonymous Grafton source: “in summer, the washing of the sheep came first, then a few

days later the shearing; the animals were driven home, the barn floor swept clean, then

the frightened sheep were held down, and little by little the great mass of wool was

clipped off all in one piece, and could be rolled up ready for carding” (Anonymous,

Grafton History Club Historical papers [n.d], 6). Animals raised for wool production

were generally slaughtered between 6-7 years old, when the quality of their wool

decreased, whereas those killed for meat were generally around 2 or 3 years old (Bowen

1998: 148), which seems to fit the Sarah Boston Farmstead pattern.

Of the domestic mammals, only pigs seem to have been raised for their meat

alone; all of the animals were apparently slaughtered between 18-24 months. Other

studies (Landon 1996; Crader 1990) have also revealed this pattern, so such a practice

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appears to have been the general rule at the time. Crader further argues that those animals

were probably killed for smoking in late fall or early winter (1990: 694).

While the evidence suggests that most of the meat came from on-site animal

husbandry and butchering, there is also a possibility that discrete cuts of meat were

procured elsewhere, such as exchange between households, local markets and stores. In

his study of the Farmstead’s inhabitants’ consumption practices, Pezzarossi showed that

between 1790 and 1820 mass-produced supplies became more and more available in the

countryside through the decentralization of the market into a network of small shop

owners and merchants (2008: 52-53). This resulted in a greater reliance from the rural

population on the global market and local commercial producers to acquire staples such

as meat and bread year-round (Pezzarossi 2008: 53). Pezzarossi further demonstrated that

the town of Grafton contained various small-scale grocery and craft shops owned by

locals and outsiders (Pezzarossi 2008: 55), to which the Hassanamisco Nipmucs might

have had access. And while most of the income that the Nipmuc families of the town

generated came from the sale of their land to the town of Grafton in 1727, they still had

access to goods and had multiple ways of generating the income necessary to acquire

them (Law 2008; Pezzarossi 2008: 60). It is therefore possible that not all of the meat was

generated on the farm. A historical document detailing the purchases of the Cooks,

another Hassanamesit family, for the years 1795 through 1800 shows that they constantly

bought supplies such as bushels of corn and rye, sugar and tobacco, butter and cheese, but

also acquired a few pounds of beef, pork, fish, veal and mutton throughout the year

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(M.A.C. Guardians of the Indians, Accounts and Correspondence). This suggests that

Nipmuc families had access to such products in stores and frequently purchased them.

Although domestic animals represent a major proportion of the assemblage, the

wild component also played an important part in its variety. The presence of at least one

deer shows that the Farmstead occupants also occasionally hunted to provide meat for the

household. The presence of wild fowl also supports this hypothesis; turkeys, ducks,

pigeons and possible pheasants were probably all eaten as a seasonal complement to the

diet, presumably in the summer when larger portions of meat would not keep for long,

even when salted (McMahon 1985). The role of wild small mammals in the assemblage,

such as rabbit, skunk and woodchuck, is more ambiguous. Even though no butchery

marks were found on these animals’ skeletons, it does not necessarily mean that they

were not part of the remains as a result of human practices, as these animals were

traditionally hunted and trapped for their meat and/or furs (Kuhn and Funk 2000: 35).

The lack of butchery marks may also result from the fact that those animals did not need

to be chopped into smaller portions to be preserved or cooked. Smaller species like

squirrels cannot be ruled out as sources of food, but they were also actively pursued

because they posed a threat to crops (Kuhn and Funk 2000: 35). However, the presence

of gnawing marks on the bones suggests that the refuse attracted scavengers, and among

them rodents which may have come to die among the refuse (Reitz and Wing 1999: 115).

This is further supported by the completeness of the skeletons, particularly of rabbit, but

the evidence is still ambiguous regarding the role of those small mammals in the

assemblage and possible diet of the farm’s occupants. Pine voles, chipmunks and

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frog/toads on the other hand, probably died on the site, attracted by human activities and

refuse piles.

Given the various habitats occupied by the turtle species of the assemblage, these

were locally available to the Farmstead inhabitants, and presumably rather easy to catch.

Although these could be opportunistic catches, the MNI of 9 individuals suggests that

they were purposefully sought after. While none of the turtle bones showed butchery

marks, many were burned, which suggest that they were eaten and disposed of in the

same manner as other food refuse.

Cod, haddock and mackerel were probably obtained through the market network

in dried form in the Grafton area, as might have been the case for the oysters present on

the site. As a coastal town and important merchant harbor, the fishing industry – of cod

and haddock especially - in Boston played a prominent role in the economic development

of the city (Landon 1996: 46). With the development of countryside market networks,

Grafton and farmers from the surrounding area would have had access to this developing

market. Other saltwater fish, such as mackerel, would also have been available at local

markets (Child, 1841). It is likely that freshwater mussels, fishes belonging to the perch

family and small catfish/bullhead were acquired through local fishing; the latter’s small

size and greater number suggest that they were probably young catfish/bullheads, whose

young tend to remain in small groups close to their nest along water edges until they are

able to protect themselves (GoFishN Encyclopedia website). They would then have been

relatively easy to catch with a net.

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Preparation and cooking

The zooarchaeological analysis gives us little precision on how the meat was

prepared and cooked. The best information comes from those rib and leg butchery marks

related to the preparation of smaller portions of meat, but these do not provide any details

as to how those pieces were processed for consumption. Mrs. Child (1841), states that

almost all parts of the animal are edible or can be used in a useful way. The animals’

head, which nowadays would be considered as butchery waste, could be boiled and eaten:

“a pig’s head, when well cooked is delicious; well cleaned, the tip of the snout chopped

off, and put in brine a week, it is very good for boiling: the cheeks, in particular, are very

sweet; they are better than any other pieces of pork to bake with beans: the head is

likewise very good baked about an hour and a half” (Child 1841: 46). This example

shows that what we today consider as not edible may not have been the case in the past.

The butchery marks on pig, sheep/goat and cattle mandibles certainly suggest that the

cheek was sought after, as were the ribs and legs, the latter probably being used for chops

and roasts (Bellantoni 1982: 5). According to Mrs. Child, these, but especially leg of

mutton, would have first been salted and pickled, dried and smoked for preservation, and

then boiled and roasted (Bellantoni 1982: 41). While there is no direct evidence of salting

or pickling, such preservation techniques appear to have widespread in rural New

England at the time (McMahon 1985; Mrs. Child 1841). It therefore appears that most

householders relied on the well or the cellar for summer refrigeration, and through the

winter ate meat or fish that had been smoked or laid down in brine (Whitehill 1963: 5).

While often considered low quality meat (Pendery 1982: 21), the high number of lower

98

limbs and feet bones suggest that they might have been used in stews or eaten (Bellantoni

1982: 5). Likewise every other animal, small mammals, birds, turtles, could have been

boiled and/or roasted, and possibly used in stews.

Around 1780, New Englanders cooked over open fires, as stoves for cooking

seem not to have come into general use much before 1830 (Whitehill 1963: 8). Cooking

methods thus revolved around the fire; roasting involved hanging the animal by the joint

on a string in front of the fire (Whitehill 1963: 10), while one could broil meat by placing

it over wood coals (Whitehill 1963: 10). Food was boiled in pots swung near or farm

from the fire; for deep-fat frying lard was the common ingredient since butter and oil

tended to be expensive (Whitehill 1963: 11).

Susannah Carter’s cookbook (1803: 54-5) mentions how to dress a turtle; first the

head must be cut off, then the cook has to separate the carapace and plastron, process and

clean the meat, and then mix it with salt, cayenne pepper, nutmeg, herbs, veal or fowl

meat, eggs, wine and water; place in the oven for a couple of hours. This suggests that

recipes might have been different for boiling over an open fire, but it is nonetheless a

good example of such a practice. The small number of turtle head bones found on the site

may be related to this type of preparation. The absence of turtles in Mrs. Child’s book

(1841) suggest that by that time turtles were not considered typical “American” food.

Eating

Eating practices are more difficult to understand from the analysis of animal

bones, but other forms of material culture, particularly the analysis of ceramic vessels

have provided some clues (see Pezzarossi 2008 for more details). The use of flatware

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tableware and hollowware serving vessels suggest that dining followed English-like

protocols of multiple courses, with the combining of both portioned meals like roasts and

other cuts of meat not suitable for stewing, and other preparations such as stews and

pottages which had a strong tradition in both Native American and African American

cuisine (Pezzarossi 2008:127-8). The variability in ceramic vessel forms, in conjunction

with the elevated amount of glass tableware, have been interpreted as an indication of

communal dining practices in which the public aspect of the household was enhanced

(Pezzarossi 2008: 126).

Refuse disposal

As discussed in this chapter, the diverse traces left by taphonomic factors such as

the degree of weathering on the bones, signs of burning and animal gnawing have

provided some information on those practices related to food disposal. To summarize, it

appears that most of the bones were probably deposited either as indiscriminate broadcast

outside the house (with a marked preference for the area north of the house) or in open

features, and that such features were left open for a certain amount of time, enough time

for scavengers to gnaw on the bones and possibly die close by. Those bones also show

some degree of weathering caused by being left vulnerable to the elements. As opposed

to the units that we know to be outside the house where bones showed the highest levels

of weathering, the elevated degree of preservation of small and fragile bones from within

the foundations suggest that the cellar hole was eventually filled, and relatively quickly,

after being left open for an indeterminate amount of time. Evidence of burning is also

probably related to the disposal of faunal remains in hearths or fires before throwing them

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away. It is also possible that the season may have affected the pattern. For instance, it we

could imagine throwing the refuse out of the house in winter in the cold and snow, and

bury the refuse in summer so as not to attract scavengers that could be detrimental to the

crops. While there is no direct evidence of such preferential disposal practices, it still

remains a possibility worth considering.

h. Conclusion

The results obtained during the analysis of faunal remains from the Sarah Boston

Farmstead site show that its inhabitants had a varied meat diet that relied heavily on

domesticated animals, but also on wild game, fish, wild birds and turtles. By all

appearances, Sarah Boston and possibly her mother ran a successful farm and probably

produced enough to sustain themselves. But did they produce enough to sustain

communal dining practices? The next chapter attempts to answer that question, as well as

relate the foodways to broader issues of identity.

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CHAPTER 6

SARAH BOSTON’S FOODWAYS,

NIPMUC IDENTITY AND COMMENSALITY

a. Introduction

The definition of foodways in recent archaeological studies goes beyond mere

diet; how the food is procured, what is eaten, how it is cooked and served, who does the

preparation, all are also a matter of choices that are culturally informed (Murcott 1983:

2). It is through these shared practices that food habits can communicate a sense of

identity and embody social relations between different agents. It is also through the

reenactment of those practices on a regular basis that they are transmitted to the next

generation, as it is in their childhood that individuals form their habitus and are

inculcated with those practices, including foodways, that become routinized, taken for

granted, reformulated and reproduced.

In the previous chapter, I have used faunal remains as the basis for interpretation

of the foodways at Sarah Boston’s Farmstead. I argued from this analysis that the

occupants of the house probably raised and killed their own livestock as a means to

102

procure meat, but also fulfilled their needs with occasional wild game. There is also a

possibility that they could acquire more discrete pieces of meat elsewhere, either from

exchange with other households, or from local markets and stores.

The analysis of butchery marks in conjunction with cookbooks published around

the time of the occupation have provided some information as to the preparation of the

meat through the consistent dismembering of carcasses and division of the skeleton into

smaller portions for easier cooking or preservation. It is doubtful that Sarah Boston and

her mother used cookbooks to guide their cooking techniques, as neither of them

apparently knew how to write (as evidenced by their signing of official documents by a

‘x’) and presumably how to read, but these cookbooks still provide wonderful insight into

preparation and preservation practices used at the time, as well as into what types of food

were culturally acceptable in Anglo-American. The interesting aspect of using cookbooks

as supporting evidence in this particular case is that the butchery mark analysis does not

show many discrepancies between the techniques used in the books and the techniques

used by the Nipmuc inhabitants of the site.

The spatial analysis of bones and their correlating taphonomic factors has

furthermore allowed us to establish how the food remains were disposed of. It appears

that some animal remains were thrown into hearths or fires before being deposited in

scattered deposits. In fact, most of the bones were probably deposited either as

indiscriminate broadcast outside the house (with a marked preference for the area north

of the house) or in open features. Such features were probably left open for a certain

amount of time, enough time for scavengers to gnaw on the bones and possibly die close

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by. As opposed to the units that we know to be outside the house where bones showed the

highest levels of weathering, the high level of preservation of small and fragile bones

from within the foundations suggest that the cellar hole was filled, and relatively quickly,

after being left open for an indefinite amount of time.

Eating practices may be understood through the analysis of ceramic vessels. These

suggest that portioned meals like roasts and other cuts of meat were served in conjunction

with other preparations such as stews and pottages which had a strong tradition in both

Native American and African American cuisine (Pezzarossi 2008:127-8). The variability

in ceramic vessel forms, in conjunction with the elevated amount of glass tableware, have

been interpreted as an indication of communal dining practices consisting of multiple

courses (Pezzarossi 2008: 126).

But how do these results speak to questions of Native and Nipmuc identity in the

18th and 19th century? Do the faunal remains support the interpretation of the farmstead

as a place of communal gatherings as suggested by glass and ceramic tableware? The

following discussion formulates some answers to these questions by placing the

foodways described above into broader issues of Native change and persistence in

colonial contexts. Based on the definition of foodways as encompassing not only the diet

but also the social relations created and maintained through food, this chapter is thus

divided into two sections: the first focuses on the cultural implications behind what was

eaten, and the second emphasizes the how and with whom, in order to better comprehend

food as an expression of Nipmuc identity.

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b. Domestic and wild animals: hybridity, choices and routinized practices

The identification of animal bones from the site has resulted in the identification

of a number of species that could potentially have been consumed by the occupants of the

farmstead. The majority of the species recovered were domestic animals, such as cattle,

pig, caprines (which include sheep and goat whose skeletal characteristics are very

similar), and chicken. In addition to the domesticated animals, there were also a number

of wild animals, including deer, rabbits, woodchucks, skunks and smaller rodents, as well

as wild birds, fish and turtles.

Given the elevated proportion of domestic animals on the site, it would be easy to

fall for the traditional automatic association of object with ethnic identity, and suggest

that the presence of domesticates, who had been at one time closely associated with

Englishness and Christianity, meant that the Nipmucs had undergone deep cultural

change in colonial times. However such a direct affiliation to ethnic identity does not take

into account the dynamic character of culture and identity, the historical context or the

active role that agents play through their choices and practices (see Silliman 2009, Dietler

2007). The intercultural adoption of goods and practices is an “active process of creative

transformation and manipulation played out by individuals and social groups with a

variety of competing interests and strategies of action embedded in political relations,

cultural perceptions and cosmologies” (Dietler 1998: 249). Raising livestock was for

Native Americans a politically- and culturally-charged decision influenced by a number

of interrelated historical circumstances, such as the pressures of land encroachment and

missionary agendas, the cycle of debt and land sale, and intermarriages between Native

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women and African American men (see chapter 3). Indentured servitude also impacted

Native food-related practices in ways that were unprecedented; young children were

socialized within the Anglo-American world and taught Anglo-American practices,

among which animal husbandry, food preparation and cooking were central, so that they

were incorporated early on into their worldviews and became self-evident practices. On

the other hand, Native Americans also adopted those practices partly as a strategy to

protect their land and to an extent to ensure the survival of the community. In fact, the

process of culture and identity formation involves the “selective domestication of foreign

foods and practices, whose adoption does not render cultures inauthentic or incoherent”

because they were incorporated into a set of broader pre-existing meaning and practices

(Dietler 2007: 225).

Postcolonial archaeologists use the notions of hybridity and creolization to

describe the intentional incorporation of alien goods or practices into existing

worldviews, which is often done by assigning meanings to burrowed cultural elements

that are consistent with pre-existing social practices and worldviews (Loren 2005; Dietler

1998: 249; 2007: 228-9). While animal husbandry did require to a certain measure a

change in the Nipmucs’ worldview and their conception of animals, the considerable

proportion of wild game in the assemblage, and in particular the important presence of

turtles, is especially significant and shows that the Nipmucs adopted husbandry in a way

that still allowed them to continue the practices of hunting and fishing. At the time when

Anglo-Americans were almost totally foregoing wild game in favor of a more restricted

consumption of meat based on the market economy (McMahon 1985: 48, Bowen 1998),

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the inhabitants of Sarah Boston’s Farmstead continued to use wild game as an important

part of their meat consumption and indeed sought out those animals that had a long

tradition in their diet, such as deer and turtle. Interestingly, turtles, which were apparently

not considered a typical American food by the 19th century, were also found on some

contemporary African American sites (Crader 1990; Reitz 1994), so that their presence

on Sarah Boston’s farmstead may not only be a result of Nipmuc’s continuing taste for

them, but could also speak to hybrid and common practices born out of the intermarriage

between Native women and African American men. Given the importance in number of

such unions, it seems natural that it would have affected foodways in some ways. The

Nipmuc’s hybrid foodways provides another example of how Indians selectively

borrowed European cultural practices by carefully weighing outside demands against

their own needs and priorities (Silverman 2003: 547).

In colonial contexts, and indeed in any contexts of cultural encounter, the

change/persistence dichotomy is a tricky one, and postcolonial studies such as Silliman’s

recent piece on the subject (2009) have served to question the validity of ethnic affiliation

based on the type of material culture found on 18th and 19th-century Native American

sites; if, like theories of practice suggest, alien practices and materials can become part of

the ‘taken for granted’ and the routinized, then how can we say that after three

generations of successful animal husbandry in the 18th and 19th century raising livestock

was not also a Nipmuc practice? (Silliman 2009: 225). By that time, Native Americans

had undoubtedly stopped equaling husbandry practices with Englishness, and presumably

did not consider themselves any less Indian because they raised cattle and ate pork, even

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less so as they continued to consume wild game and turtles and to serve them in stews

and pottages.

c. Sharing meals, sharing identities

Sarah Boston’s farmstead was also a place where Nipmuc identity could be

actively created at the community level, and foodways probably played a key role in that

creation. In her master’s thesis, Law (2008) associated the site’s high count of glass

tumblers with communal gatherings and suggested that Sarah Boston’s house might have

served as a place of gathering in a capacity similar to that of a rural tavern, where Native

people could get together to discuss politics and their personal affairs over food and

drinks (Law 2008: 96). One of the questions that the present study has aimed to answer is

whether or not the faunal remains can support this interpretation, and answering this is

the main goal of this particular section.

Law’s interpretation uses the concept of the tavern to describe the type of

communal place that Sarah Boston’s house might have been. Taverns were at the time

important public places in the Anglo-American world, where a variety of community

activities took place, among which food preparation and consumption occupied a central

place (Rockman and Rothschild 1984: 117; Thorp 1996: 662). In villages and rural

neighborhoods, tavern meetings were often the place of countless public and private

functions; informal political debates went on openly or less openly (Thorp 1996: 662).

Because of a growing concern in the 18th century about Native and black servants

gathering at night, they were excluded from colonial taverns by law, which denied them

access to licensed drinking establishments (Forbes 1889: 53; Law 2008: 126). As a result,

108

unlicensed drink sellers were common place and “given that Native people had their own

concerns as a group, and were often not welcomed elsewhere, it seems natural that they

would have sought a place to communicate with each other” (Law 2008: 96).

As Law points out, the tavern is a priori an English concept, but Native Americans

had long-standing communal values of their own, as well as deeply-rooted traditions of

communal sharing (Law 2008: 93). In The Common Pot, Brooks (2008) stresses the

importance for Native people of the concept of the common pot, or the “network of

relations that must nourish and reproduce itself” (Brooks 2008: 4). An inherent

component of this concept is the idea that whatever was given from the larger network of

inhabitants had to be shared within the community (Brooks 2008: 5). This practice was

necessary to survival in times of scarcity, and if one person went hungry, then the whole

would face physical and/or psychological repercussions from this rupture in the network

of relations; “All the inhabitants of the pot were fed from the pot and were part of the

pot” (Brooks 2008: 5). According to this conceptualization of the social world, people

had the right and responsibility to give part of their share to another person, especially to

one who had suffered a loss or was in need, but they did not have the right to take more

for themselves than they required for subsistence (Brooks 2008: 6; Silverman 2005: 194).

We know from the faunal remains that Sarah Boston and possibly her mother

before her ran a successful farm, so that perhaps they felt an obligation to share their

good fortune with people of the community. O’Brien’s study of 52 Native inventories

from Natick filed between 1741-1763 (O’Brien 1997: 188) showed that 27% of them

owned husbandry tools, 17% owned livestock, only 9% owned more than one animals,

109

and 4% also owned barns (also in Silverman 2003: 524). While the occupation of the

Sarah Boston’s Farmstead occurred a few years later than this study, we can estimate

given their general precarious economic situation that the number of Native Americans

owning domestic animals may not have changed all that much over 20 years or so. So

that when we look at the results from the faunal analysis at Sarah Boston’s Farmstead, it

is clear that she and her mother ran a farm with multiple animals, producing a variety of

products, not the least of which being meat.

Two valuations of property recorded in 1747 and 1776 for the towns of Grafton

and North Side respectively detail the amount of real estate, livestock – including horses,

oxen, cows, swine, sheep and goat – interest money, and so forth that proprietors owned

(Grafton Records, folder 2). While these records only concern townspeople, they do

include three African American men for the 1747 valuation. The records make no

mention of Hassanamesit families so the comparison with Sarah Boston’s Farmstead is

biased and fragmented at best, but the documents still offer an interesting comparative

baseline. The following tables (table 3) offer a summary of the documents and show two

major trends relevant to this study; first that cow and sheep-raising were important local

economic activities, and second that the average number of animals for each category is

relatively small, with the exception of sheep.

110

1747 Valuation (Grafton) : Horses Oxen Cows Swine Sheep Goat Total for white proprietors 89 128 319 134 671 13 Average 1 2 4 2 12 0* % owned 73% 52% 77% 65% 51% 1% Total for African Americans 4 4 13 7 65 0 Average 1 2 4 2 22 0 * The 13 goats belonged to 1 proprietor

1776 Valuation (North Side): Horses Oxen Cows Swine Sheep/Goats Total per proprietor 65 92 212 113 379 Average 1 2 3 2 8 % owned 68% 42% 71% 54% 51%

If we look at the MNIs recovered for cattle (7), sheep/goat (6) and pig (7) at the

site, it appears that the Sarahs ran a more successful farm than the majority of Native

Americans of their time as only 9% of Natick Indians owned more than one animals, and

had a comparable number of animals to the average Grafton proprietor. It is important to

note that while they are the result of two generations’ worth of farming, the MNIs

represent only an estimation of the minimum number of individuals, so that it could in

actuality loosely correspond to a year’s meat consumption (Landon 2010, personal

communication). Nevertheless, livestock was valuable and central in the success of a

farm, so killing domestic animals was not an everyday activity, but was reserved for

special occasions or the fall when meat had to be preserved and stored for the winter

(Whitehill 1963: 6). With this in mind, we can still see that one of the major differences

between Sarah Boston’s Farmstead and the valuations is the relative importance of swine

in the site’s assemblage compared to the average 2 that townsfolk owned. As we have

pointed out earlier, pigs required little attention and were known to be particularly

Table 3. Number of domestic animals recorded in the 1747 and 1776 valuations.

111

favored by most Indian farmers because of this, and was probably one of those practices

that permitted the residents to leave the farm and go hunting and fishing (see chapter 4).

While these numbers provide interesting insights, it is difficult to judge a farm’s

economic success based purely on quantity, especially as the indentured servitude of

children and the constant sale of the Muckamaug parcel to pay off debts indicate that the

Sarahs often were in precarious economic situations. But the fact that their farm appeared

to be more productive than those of Native Nipmucs from Natick, in conjunction with

long-held traditions of communal sharing, make the idea of Sarah Boston’s house as a

place of communal gathering a highly plausible one. Not only could the community

gather to drink together, but they could also eat from a variety of resources, including

those coming directly from the farm. In summer, sharing the meat from big domestic

animals was not only a good way to establish and sustain social relations, but also an

excellent tactic to avoid the rapid spoilage of the meat (McMahon 1985: 35). Moreover,

studies of Native hunting strategies indicate that hunting was often a collective affair

(Anderson 2004), so it is also possible that the hunting, fishing and gathering was also

done as a group activity.

I have previously discussed how commensal acts, or the practice of eating and

drinking together, can serve to solidify the relationship between members of a group, but

also to draw the boundaries defining the group in relation to others (see chapter 2).

Because of this and because the members of the group share similar habitus and life

conditions, commensality plays a key role in the creation and constant reproduction of the

group’s identity and consequently the identity of its members. So that when people

112

gathered at Sarah Boston’s house to share a meal, they simultaneously created the very

conditions that would strengthen their shared practices. Not only were they sharing meals

that may resonate with past practices – such as deer meat or a turtle stew - but they were

also sharing stories, concerns and political opinions, all the while solidifying the bonds

that united them and set them apart from white Anglo-Americans.

d. Conclusion

In the introductory chapter, I stated a number of goals that I hoped to accomplish

in the course of this study. The first was to provide valuable and rare data on Nipmuc diet

(in particular meat diet) and foodways during the 18th and 19th centuries. The second goal

was to see whether the data obtained through the faunal analysis could support the idea of

Sarah Boston’s house as a place of communal gathering, and the third and last goal was

to examine the ways in which Sarah Boston’s foodways were interrelated with processes

of identity formation. The analysis of the faunal remains recovered at the Sarah Boston

Farmstead site has allowed me to formulate some answers to these questions.

Firstly, the zooarchaeological data has showed that the Sarah Boston Farmstead’s

inhabitants had a varied and “hybrid” diet that relied heavily on domestic animals, but

that they also completed their meat diet with wild game, wild birds, fish and turtles.

Animal husbandry had become a common Native practice in New England, especially

after the 1730s, so that finding such results from the site is not entirely surprising. Given

the circumstances and the apparent success of the farm, what is slightly more surprising

is the variety in meat procurement practices and the important presence of wild

mammals, fish, wild birds and turtles. Turtles are particularly interesting, as their high

113

numbers suggest that they were particularly sought after and evidence of burning indicate

that they were most likely consumed. While turtles seem to have been part of both Native

and Euro-Americans’ diet at the beginning of the colonial period (Kuhn and Funk 2000;

Reitz 1994), at the time of the site’s occupation their absence from American cookbooks

suggest that they were not considered “typical” American food.

On the question of communal gathering, it appears that Sarah Boston and possibly

her mother before her ran a successful farm, with more animals than the majority of other

Native people of their time and comparable to the average of what Grafton townspeople

owned, which suggests that they probably had enough to support occasional gatherings.

But quantities of meat and success of the farm aside, it is likely that Sarah Boston would

share what she had with the members of her community; communal sharing was part of a

long-held responsibility that induced Native people to share what they had, even if it was

very little. That said, it appears from the taxonomic representation that those who came to

eat and drink at Sarah’s house would have been served a variety of foodstuffs, including

both farm animals and wild game, and probably in a formal Anglo-American fashion,

with multiple courses.

The Farmstead’s inhabitants’ foodways indicate that the creation of Nipmuc

identity was both based on differentiation and solidarity. On one hand they were

affirming their Nipmuc ethnicity and differences by continuing to eat wild game and

showing a marked preference for swine, while on the other they might use animal

husbandry as a means to lessen the gap between Native people and Anglo-Americans in

order to counter the growing effects of racism. Pezzarossi uses the concept of ‘mimicry’

114

to describe how adopting similar practices may have been a way for the Sarahs to

“alleviate the inequality, oppression and marginalization” that was characteristic of

white/Indian relations of the time (Pezzarossi 2008: 6). It is therefore possible that they

used their food-related practices in the same way, paradoxically at the same time as their

commensal acts served to solidify the bonds within the Nipmuc community of Grafton.

Nipmuc identity was thus created and communicated at multiple levels: what was

eaten could speak to social differentiation and reinforcement of Native identity through a

varied diet that continued to incorporate wild game; but also of solidarity through

commensality and reproduction and reenactment of Native communal values. Adopting

animal husbandry was a choice, and probably a difficult one – especially for Sarah

Muckamaug who was the first of the family (that we know of) to have petitioned for

money to buy livestock - but a choice nonetheless. Through the contextualization of the

Nipmuc’s adoption of husbandry, it becomes clear that, while raising livestock had once

been equaled with Englishness, the adoption of this practice was in fact part of the

process wherein Nipmuc expressed their power of agency as they selectively

incorporated this practice while retaining the essence of their Nipmuc identity by

continuing to hunt and fish and by performing deep-rooted practices of communal

sharing. This sharing of meals and drinks solidified the social ties between those that

attended those eating events; this unity in turn affirmed the identity of the group in a

world of racism and ethnic discrimination, and played a key role in the construction of a

collective identity that went beyond the colonial world.

115

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