Sapsquatch Maple Syrup
Turtle Herd Acres is proud to offer Sapsquatch Maple Syrup. We believe the secret to our Maple Syrup is time, care, and a little bit of legend.
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Our sap is hand collected from our maple trees and is boiled down in our rustic maple shack which offers refuge to our homemade evaporator. Thoroughly inspected by the Sap Master General himself, every batch is small, every drop is pure and every ounce is bottled with flavour in mind.
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Authentic and artisanal. Hand gathered,fire boiled, purely maple. Is it luck or is it legend? Whispers of the Sapaquatch have echoed our sugar bush for closed to a decade.
The Legend of the Sapsquatch
Long before Turtle Herd Acres was a hobby farm, before fence posts and garden rows stitched the land into order, the forests ran thick with sugar maples. Locals whispered of agentle giant that guarded them: the Sapsquatch. Unlike its distant cousin, the lumbering Sasquatch of the deep woods, the Sapsquatch was said to be sticky, slow, and sweet-smelling. Locals claim it was born of a maple spirit—half man, half tree—wandering the sugar bush in early spring when the nights are still frosty and the days are warm enough to wake the trees.
Its breath carries the sweet scent of syrup, twigs and withered, dried maple leaves cling to its hair. The caretakers of the land tell of buckets mysteriously filling overnight, or taps running dry after the Sapsquatch came to taste. Some swear their tools go missing, only to be found in places you'd least expect, sticky and hidden amongst the brush. But the Sapsquatch is no villain. Those who respect the land and take only what they need find gifts: a perfect harvest, an unseen hand shielding young sapplings from frost, or even a jug of syrup left by the sugar shack door. Yet those who grow greedy, tapping too many trees or wasting nature’s bounty, hear the groaning knock of the Sapsquatch in the night—a sound like sap dripping into a pail, slow and heavy—and know to mend their ways.
Children are warned: never wander the maple grove alone when the sap moon is full, or you might feel a sticky hand brush your shoulder. Some say the Sapsquatch isn’t seen so much as felt: the pull of syrup on your boots, the creak of branches bending low, the smell of sweetness in cold air. At Turtle Herd Acres, they say the creature still roams. On misty mornings, you might find a trail of sticky prints across the pasture, leading toward the woods. The animals grow restless, ears pricked, as if they sense the sugar spirit watching. And every spring, when the sap starts to flow, the farmers of Turtle Herd Acres tap their trees with care, whispering thanks to the Sapsquatch—guardian of sweetness, spirit of the maples, and reminder that the land is alive.
