The Fiddlehead War

The mighty fiddlehead, that coiled young fern found on riverbanks in Spring, is a cultural icon near and dear to the hearts of New Brunswickers.

Once, in the 1980s, Vermont tried to make it their state vegetable, provoking a remarkably angry response from New Brunswickers, who flooded Vermont with angry poems. This bizarre international diplomatic row made the news around the world.

The fiddlehead is actually older than the dinosaurs. The unopened fronds of The Ostrich Fern, officially named Matteuccia struthiopteris, can be found in fossil records even before flowering plants existed.

The Wəlastəkwewiyik, Mi’kmaq, Penobscot, and Passamoquoddy peoples of the Maritimes and New England traditionally harvested the fiddlehead in Spring long before the arrival of European settlers.

After the arrival, fiddleheads were introduced to the Acadiens and the English settlers.

Remarkably for the time, the fiddlehead was loved by all, regardless of race, religion, or language.

This peaceful existence came to an abrupt end on February 1st, 1985, when, without warning, a Bill was introduced in the Vermont Legislature declaring –in verse for some unknown reason— that the fiddlehead was Vermont’s official state vegetable.

The real-life wording of the actual legislation read, in part;

“This body makes clear, that we do not intend,

To cast aspersion on our other veggie friends.

Don’t intend to scorn the corn, belittle the pea;

Demean the bean, rout the sprout callously.

But the fiddlehead fern it grows strong, it grows free,

Like the thrush and the clover and the honeybee.

Like the Morgan Horse in a field, on a hill,

If you liked the above, you’ll just love this Bill.”

New Brunswickers, did not in fact, love that bill.

From little Tide Head, which calls itself “The Fiddlehead Capital of The World,” down along the Miramichi, Tobique and St. John Rivers, the ire of New Brunswickers was raised.

CBC InfoAM Fredericton host Paddy Gregg responded with a rousing call to arms, also written in verse:

“Stand up to the grasping Yankee I say;

It’s time for the worm to turn.

You can have our trees,

take the damn fish,

but not our beloved fern.

Remember this, New Brunswick folk,

You’ve been bullied, driven, led,

But this one time we must not budge,

Long Live Our Fiddlehead.”

The radio host called on New Brunswickers to send their own poems protesting Vermont’s bill.

New Brunswickers responded to the battle cry by sending Vermont newspapers, radio stations, and politicians poems extolling the glorious vegetable – or angrily denouncing the Americans.

“H.B.: A New Brunswick Patriot” wrote:

“The fiddlehead is in our hearts,

Our heritage, our souls.

It symbolizes spring’s advent,

The end of winter’s cold.”

Audrey Bates wrote:

“Let Vermont choose another plant instead,

It’s ours alone, the famous fiddlehead.”

Disgruntled Tobiquers (that’s how they signed their letter) wrote:

“When will this stealing stop I ask From you folks down below,

The border that separates these lands I’d really like to know.”

Ann Deveau minced no words:

“All hail the fiddlehead fern,

For which New Brunswickers yearn.

And if, in Vermont,

Our vegetable they want,

Then in Hell they can burn.”

The feud escalated dramatically when the Bill was sent to Vermont’s General and Military Affairs Commission.

While this was a harmless side-effect of a sometimes bewildering American bureaucracy, the move raised eyebrows in New Brunswick enough that the committee’s Vice-Chairman Rep. Robert Harris issued a statement saying:

“You may rest assured that the state of Vermont has no intention of mounting a full-scale war, or armed conflict against our Canadian friends in the Maritimes.”

Some ordinary Vermonters called for calm –in verse, of course— such as Cynthia Ricketts from Montpelier;

“For a start, here’s a toast To our northern neighbours,

That we’ll say as we bend To our fiddlehead labours.

Here’s to New Brunswick Whose people are graced

With wisdom and wit And unquestionable taste.”

The bizarre story made its way across both nations; from coast to coast Canadians wrote poems to defend their brothers and sisters in the Maritimes.

Major American newspapers like the New York Times and the Miami Herald published stories explaining to their readers what a fiddlehead was, and how to prepare them – though the American papers complained about how expensive they were.

Canadian politicians visiting Uruguay for the inauguration of a new President, and Canadian diplomats working in Brazil, were startled to find newspaper articles in Spanish and Portuguese talking about “The Battle of The Fiddlehead Fern.”

Seventeen-year-old Dawn Turner from Arthurette wrote;

“The winter days, so long and dark

We really look forward to Spring

When we grab our buckets and pails,

And pick the little thing.

Stop and think, don’t take away Our beloved fiddlehead,

Because without them we would lose, Our Mascot Fiddle Edd.”

Fiddle Edd was a towering –and frankly, somewhat terrifying— giant fiddlehead mascot of the 1985 Canada Games, which was to be held that Summer in Saint John.

Fiddle Edd was sent to Vermont with a delegation from New Brunswick as a goodwill ambassador to mediate the dispute.

Fiddle Edd went on a whirlwind diplomatic tour of Vermont; wooing the Legislature, appearing before the committees discussing the issue, and meeting one very startled state Governor who did not seem to have been forewarned of her meeting with the 7.5-foot tall green mascot.

It appears the Governor was not adequately prepped for her meeting with Fiddle Edd, because when the giant green mascot bounded into her office she exclaimed “Oh my goodness!”

After a hesitant pause, she asked the silent, green, 7.5 foot tall fiddlehead and asked: “Have you travelled far, sir?”

She then muttered, while still within the earshot of New Brunswick’s keen reporters: “I really never guessed who I’d be meeting when I took this job…”

Rep. Harris introduced Fiddle Edd to the Vermont Legislature with –what else— a poem:

“Through the years we’ve heard witnesses of every stripe,

From every persuasion, from all walks of life.

But in all this time, I feel safe to say,

We’ve never had a witness like the one here today.”

As Fiddle Edd and the New Brunswick delegation listened, Rep. Harris read to the Vermont Legislature a letter from Indigenous peoples in Vermont:

“We sit on the sidelines watching and listening to the whole people of New Brunswick and Vermont are feuding furiously about which of them has it over the other in terms of discovering and claiming the stately Mah-sos, apparently the [Indigenous] term is “Mah-sos”, as their own.”

“The amusing part of it all is these two latter-day feuders, Vermont and New Brunswick, are merely babes in nursing on this great island (North America) in relation to the vast time our people have been nourishing on this stately and special food without ever claiming territorial rights to it.”

“Will these two babes in arms look to a sensible and pacifying approach to settle their differences? This is an embarrassing situation for the mighty Mah-sos.”

Several days later, Rep. Harris and his committee decided not to move the fiddlehead bill to the Vermont Legislature for a vote. The bill was dead.

The normally chatty Rep. Harris was uncharacteristically demure, stating simply “I guess my feelings are that there certainly are other matters more important than this measure.”

Meanwhile, in New Brunswick, elected officials who had been set to introduce a bi-partisan effort to claim the fiddlehead as their own also backpedalled, dropping their claim to the fiddlehead.

The dispute was resolved, and the fiddlehead went back to its quiet and peaceful existence on the banks of the rivers of the Maritimes and New England.