Pearls of the Scantic

In the mid-1800s, long before cultured pearls reshaped the jewelry trade, New England’s quiet rivers and streams became the surprising focus of a widespread treasure hunt. Stories circulated from Massachusetts to Maine that freshwater mussels, lying in sandy riverbeds and settling in the shadow of old mill dams, sometimes held natural pearls of remarkable beauty. Pink, lavender, cream, or flawless white, these pearls occasionally sold for impressive sums. What began as a local curiosity soon blossomed into a regional phenomenon: pearl hunting.

Even the small waterways of Wilbraham’s South Parish, which later separated to become the Town of Hampden in 1878, were swept up in the excitement. Flowing steadily through the parish, the Scantic River, narrow, winding, and often overlooked, had long supported healthy beds of freshwater mussels. When tales began circulating in the 19th century about valuable pearls being found in New England rivers, local families along the Scantic took notice.

Scantic River in 1966, Photograph taken from the Chapin Street Bridge.

The mussels responsible for creating these pearls were native species common to southern New England: the Eastern Elliptio, Eastern Lampmussel, Brook Floater, and the occasionally present Eastern Pearlshell, a species historically prized in Europe for its natural luster. Pearls formed when a bit of debris or a small parasite irritated the mussel’s inner tissue, prompting it to coat the intruder in nacre. Though most pearls were misshapen “baroques,” the rare round ones held real value.

By the late 1800s, pearl hunting along the Scantic had become a modest but memorable pastime. Long before Hampden became a separate municipality, families in the South Parish spoke of neighbors who found small but respectable pearls inside the river’s clams.

Across New England, the craze intensified. Reports from larger rivers, such as the Connecticut and Merrimack, told of pearls fetching $100 to $500, staggering sums in the 1880s. Though the Scantic River never produced such legendary finds, the possibility alone sent parish residents wading into its shallow bends with pails and curiosity, hoping to discover a faint glimmer inside a mussel shell.

But this excitement came with consequences. Freshwater mussels are slow to grow and can live for decades. During the pearl-hunting years, many were collected indiscriminately, and the South Parish was no exception. In certain stretches of the Scantic, empty shells littered the banks where hopeful hands had opened mussels in search of fortune. Historians now recognize this period as the beginning of a decline in native mussel populations across New England, a trend later worsened by the pearl-button industry.

By the early 20th century, the craze had faded. Cultured pearls from Japan entered the American market, dramatically reducing the value of natural finds. The Scantic River returned to its quiet course, flowing as it had before, past meadows, old mill sites, and the farms that once formed the backbone of Wilbraham’s South Parish.

Today, freshwater mussels in Massachusetts are protected, and pearl hunting belongs to memory. Yet the old stories remain to some.

They are reminders of a moment when even a modest river in Wilbraham’s former South Parish shimmered with possibility, and when everyday people stepped into the water with the faint hope of finding a tiny piece of nature’s hidden wealth waiting quietly in the mud.