It was on a hot and humid Friday, August 7, 1761, and farmer Lt. Thomas Mirick sent his twenty-two-year-old son, Timothy, to harvest the hay. Like other young men and women in that agricultural community, Timothy was accustomed to the hard labor of subsistence farming. He sharpened his father’s scythe blade against a stone. He then began the laborious task of cutting the hay, but his thoughts may have been elsewhere, thinking of his beloved Sarah.
The meadow he was mowing was less than a quarter mile southwest of town (the area just south of today’s Oakland Street, Wilbraham). This may have been where Timothy's body was found, which was stated within eyesight of his new home, but not the tragic spot where the rattlesnake delivered its fatal bite. Further research indicates the meadow he was mowing was further south well into what is Hampden today.
There has always been a debate about the location of the tragic spot between the two towns ever since Hampden separated from Wilbraham in 1878. One must remember that the incident occurred in 1761, when this area was part of the Springfield settlement, in an area known as Springfield Mountain or the Outward Commons. Wilbraham separated from Springfield in 1763 and became its own town.
Timothy's father, Lt. Thomas Mirick owned lot numbers 56, 58, 59, 60, and 61, all of which are located in Hampden today, in addition to his farm in Wilbraham, near the Hampden/Wilbraham border. These numbered lots were part of the original properties that were deeded in the early years to residents of Springfield.
In 1773, Lt. Thomas Mirick sold the lots mentioned above. Later the meadow where the incident happened was owned by the Noah Granger Stebbins family who lived in an old house on West Road (Wilbraham Road, Hampden), which was in front of the meadow in question. At some point in time, the Sessions Family acquired the property. This area today would be located just south of Echo Valley Road in Hamden.
In 1897, Mr. Hills of Hartford Connecticut, husband of the former Elsie Sessions, took a picture of the "Old Gate to the West Meadow" that led to the fatal spot. Mrs. Hills made a notation on the back of one of the prints in pencil, "In the meadow where Merrick was bitten by a rattlesnake."
Chauncey Peck in his "History of Wilbraham", published in 1913, states that the tragic spot could be plainly seen from Robert Sessions' home built in 1876, which is located today at 300 Wilbraham Road in Hampden. This home sits nicely upon a hill that has a commanding view to the west. and northwest.
In 1961, Carl Howlett talked to an elderly gentleman named Herbert E. Stebbins. He told Carl that he lived in the Noah Granger Stebbins house when he was a boy. He also said that he could almost lead him to the spot where Timothy was bitten and could show him the stone where he fell and died but poor Timothy never made it to the West Road. Also, at the spot where he fell and died, Timothy would have been able to see his new house in the distance.
His wedding day was just two weeks away. At the south end of the West Road (1004 Main Street today), a two-story house was being constructed for Timothy and his bride-to-be, Sarah Lamb, “the village sweetheart.” In keeping with the customs of the time, Timothy and his betrothed spent little, if any, time together un-chaperoned. So, he may have had other things on his mind. Perhaps, this is why he didn’t see the rattlesnake, and it bit him. Nobody responded to his calls for help and, a few hours later, he died.
Generally not aggressive, rattlesnakes strike when threatened or deliberately provoked, but given room, they will retreat. Most snake bites occur when a rattlesnake is handled or accidentally touched by someone walking or climbing. The majority of snakebites occur on the hands, feet, and ankles. It is presumed that Timothy was bitten on the heel.
Most likely if Timothy's cries for help were answered, some type of treatment would have been administered. Ammonia was a common remedy through the 1700s and 1800s. Many people took to carrying a small bottle of ammonia when they ventured into rattlesnake country, which they could apply to the bite. A very painful but common remedy was to get a knife and cut out as much of the wound and (hopefully) the poison as possible. Undoubtedly the same result would have occurred with Timothy still dying at the fangs of the pesky serpent.
Many local farmers had their fields to mow and the news of Timothy’s death sent feelings of dread through the sons and daughters of the community. The snakebite that killed Timothy Mirick was, in fact, one of the last recorded snakebite fatalities in this area; it was not a common occurrence. The following day, a search was made for the rattlesnake that killed poor Timothy. The farmers found the snake coiled up near Timothy's scythe that lay on the ground from the previous day and they killed that pesky serpent.
I have always wondered if those very farmers who found and killed the snake that was responsible for Timothy's death cut the rattles off the snake and kept them as an odd prize or even gave them to Timothy's father to show that they got that pesky serpent.
People in the early days have always had a strange fascination with rattlesnakes. As one of America’s most poisonous snakes, they are both feared and hated, and yet their rattles are prized for their mythical and magical properties. Just as in an incident that took place on Beebe Road, Wilbraham, in the late 1790s to early 1800s of Nathan and Mary Mack's daughter who was found playing with a rattlesnake that was curled up in her lap. Fortunately, the snake never delivered its fatal bite to the little girl and Nathan killed the snake. He then proceeded to cut off the rattles and gave them to his daughter as a keepsake, who kept them in the family for several generations as an odd family heirloom.
The type of rattlesnake that most likely killed Timothy would have been the timber rattlesnake. This species of snake was very common in New England and other parts of the country. Early settlers were afraid of the snake, as its population was widespread throughout. In Massachusetts, these snakes are very active from mid-May to mid-October. It was said that this rattlesnake that killed Timothy came down from Rattlesnake Peak just southwest of Wigwam Hill and west of Sunrise Peak, in search of water.
When the Puritans arrived in 1620 and set up Plymouth Colony they quickly and regrettably made acquaintance with the North American rattlesnake. The rattlesnake was considered such a menace and so hated that all rattlesnakes were killed on sight. Some people even hunted rattlesnakes. If one were to look at a map of New England, one would notice that many towns and cities have landmarks such as hills, mountains, streams, pastures, fields, and other geographic locations, having the name rattlesnake or snake attached. In any event, the rattlesnake and where it lived, lives on today in echoes of Colonial place names. For many years these names all served to warn and advise the traveler and local farmer alike of the presence of rattlesnakes. To the Colonial mind, there was only one snake, the rattlesnake, and snake-named places are all named for the presence of this detested reptile.
A 1761 hand-written record of the town clerk includes a short report of the incident: “Lieut Thomas Mirick’s only Son dyed, August 7th, 1761, By the Bite of a Rattle Snake, Being 22 years, two months and three days old, and very nigh marriage.”
Two years after Timothy's passing, Sarah Lamb, Timothy's wife-to-be, married Justus Dwight of the Town of Cold Spring, (Belchertown, Massachusetts), on January 19, 1763. They had eight children together. She passed away on February 15, 1832, at the age of 95. She was throughout her life very active and energetic and retained her erect posture to extreme old age. For many of the last years of her life, she was blind. She and her husband are both buried in Dwight Cemetery located in Belchertown.
Four years later, a poem about the snakebite incident appeared in Joseph Fisk’s versified Ten Year Almanac, a book that chronicled outstanding events that occurred between 1755 and 1764. Fisk’s book was popular in households in all thirteen colonies. Today, the folk song about Timothy’s death, “Springfield Mountain” (and its parodies) is so widespread, that it is considered a traditional folk song in dozens of states and is frequently included in collections of traditional American folk songs. It is said that Sarah Lamb, his wife-to-be, wrote the poem.
The following is one of the earliest versions of the poem, Springfield Mountain.
On Springfield Mountain there did dwell
A handsome youth, was known full well,
Lieutenant Mirick's only son,
A likely youth, near twenty-one.
On Friday morning he did go
Down to the meadows for to mow.
He mowed, he mowed all around the field
With a poisonous serpent at his heel.
When he received his deathly wound
He laid his scythe down on the ground
For to return was his intent,
Calling aloud, long as he went.
His calls were heard both far and near
But no friend to him did appear.
They thought he did some workman call
Alas, poor man, alone did fall!
Day being past, night coming on,
The father went to seek his son,
And there he found his only son
Cold as a stone, dead on the ground.
He took him up and he carried him home
And on the way did lament and mourn
Saying, "I heard but did not come,
And now I'm left alone to mourn."
In the month of August, the twenty-first
When this sad accident was done.
May this a warning be to all,
To be prepared when God shall call.
The early inhabitants of Springfield Mountain erected the Adams Cemetery in 1741, south of town, on a level meadow about half the size of a football field. They planted maple trees around the perimeter so they could locate the resting place of their loved ones, even in deep winter snows. Timothy Mirick has been resting in his grave in this cemetery, for two hundred and sixty years.
The inscription on Timothy Mirick's gravestone is as follows;
Here lies ye Body of
Mr. Timothy Mirick,
Son of Lieut. Thomas
& Mrs. Mary Mirick
who died August 7th
1761 in ye 23rd
Year of his Age.
"He cometh forth like a flower and is cut down
He fleeeth also as a Shadow and continueth not." (Job XIV,2)
I have recently discovered that our family has a distant connection to Timothy Mirick. He is the step-great-grandson of our 10th great-aunt, Sarah Mary Stebbins. Timothy's Great-Grandfather, Thomas Mirick, married Sarah Mary Stebbins in Springfield on July 14, 1639. She was only 16 years of age when they married. She died shortly after having their fifth child at the age of 26. Thomas then remarried Elizabeth Tilley on August 21 or October 21, 1653. They had seven children together one being a son named John. John married Mary Day on February 11, 1687. They had thirteen children together with the tenth child being a son named Thomas. Thomas married Mary Warner on May 15, 1738. They had three children together with Timothy being the firstborn and the one who tragically lost his life due to a snake bite in 1761.
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