Conservation Easement Preserves 68 Acres In Sandy Hook

By Kendra Bobowick

Sixty-eight acres of criss-crossed stonewalls, mature trees casting shade on the edges of open meadow, and the damp aroma of soft earth in Sandy Hook have acquired a special meaning: they will never see the bite of development.

“We would rather see these meadows and woodlands kept as meadows and woodlands,” landowner John Howat said Friday, August 21. He would “rather see the birds and animals” that leave behind clues that they, too, are familiar guests — a sedum’s plump leaves protected by fencing from deer, tall wooden bird feeders placed in spots visible from inside the farm house, or the flash of bright yellow black-eyed Susans speckled across the lawn. Mr Howat and his wife Anne Hadley Howat have donated 68 acres of their land in a conservation easement to the Newtown Forest Association. They made the decision with their daughters Karen and Laura.

Amused, Mr Howat said, “You’re taking over a large herd of deer you know.” The land will be under the forest association’s care, but is not open to the public.

The scenic parcel locally known as Snake Rock Farm borders Zoar Road, extends to Lone Oak Meadows Road, and connects to other forest association parcels in the Cobbler’s Mill subdivision. It is now protected in perpetuity. Explaining the name, Mr Howat pointed uphill, “There is a big rock up there with Indian petroglyphs.” The engravings on the rock resembled a snake.

At 2 pm Friday afternoon, Newtown Forest Association President Bob Eckenrode and Treasurer Guy Peterson pulled into the Howats’ driveway in Sandy Hook. Glancing at the backyard, and the easement beyond, a brief motion drew attention near an open garage door. A humming bird dropped in, then out of sight — just one of many reminders of a life on land that has been in the Hadley and Howat families since 1889. The original home there dates back to 1767.

Stepping through the backyard to a distant point where the easement acres began, the stonewalls, meadows, and features hidden by trees overgrowing the footpath were filled with deeper shades of meaning clear to the Howats — especially Anne, who had visited when her grandparents owned the property before she inherited the farm.

Are the woods familiar to her? “Oh yes,” she said, smiling. Mr Eckenrode later observed that the Howats have “a passion for their property,” noting that the land and property hold years’ worth of memories for them.

Side-by-side lawn chairs, old barn foundations, forest paths, even a hummingbird unlocked memories: they love some of the plants stubbornly reemerging from the ground every year. Ms Howat’s mother had offhandedly sewn them there by the foundation. Several strides away and with the backyard underfoot, Mr Howat raised his cane to point toward the lawn chairs. “We usually sit there and watch the weather come,” he said. The chairs faced across a slope, pulling Mr Howat’s gaze over a split rail fence, and past a cluster of perennials where the ground dropped again below a stonewall. Clouds clung together overhead, thinning toward the distance.

Mr Howat concluded, “When [the weather] gets too violent we go inside…” A few steps away, Ms Howat laughed, remembering the “pregnant” stonewall with a bulge that worried her. Despite masons’ reassurances, the wall soon crumbled. “Thank goodness I wasn’t in the garden.”

Approaching the tree line, Mr Peterson paused as they stepped through a gap in another stone wall. “From here, it’s under our watch,” he said. The Howats’ yard ends and the forest — and easement acreage — begins. The forest association has the responsibility to make sure the land remains unaltered. The easement eliminates the possibility that the property could ever be subdivided, and gives the forest association the right and obligation to monitor and prevent development and to preserve the property in its current condition. Paths lead to fields, a stream, and a few secrets found among shadows in the understory.

Moving deeper into the woods, a dark shape cast late afternoon shade into their path. A wooden water-tower fitted onto a stone foundation looms. “My wife’s grandfather bought that from a local railroad,” Mr Howat said. Catching up with Ms Howat’s conversation, she was telling Mr Eckenrode, “I visited here when I was young. The meadows went through an evolution.” Pointing to a break in the trees ahead, a swatch of paler color interrupted the dark tree cover. The path would end at an open field. She remembers: “People paid to graze cattle.” Imitating herself as a girl, Ms Howat raised her hand above her head, saying, “The cattle were “this big!”

When cattle no longer grazed, she said, “Then, people paid to mow for the hay…” Today, she pays for someone to mow the fields “to keep them open.” Mr Howat stood beside his wife, the field up ahead, observing, “It’s no longer a farming community.” On another part of the property, Ms Howat recalls a tennis court where “ministers would get together.” Although the court is “returning to nature now,” she won’t forget it. Thinking of the clergymen, she said, “I love the vision of this ecumenical tennis game,” she said. Were the clergy hiding from the parishioners and enjoying a respite? Ms Howat said, “I wasn’t there, but I love the story.”

Only minutes later her humor crept into the conversation. Mr Howat noted the “headwaters” to a stream that sporadically flows. “John, what a grand term for the seasonal trickle!” she laughed. Another sign of nature left remnants across the path. Probing at the off-white, thin material at his feet, Mr Howat guessed, “A wasps nest.” Looking ahead, he added, “There are lots of those — lots of everything. Mosquitoes too. If you want those, I’ve got them.”

In Perpetuity

The Howats had begun considering an easement in recent years. They realized that they did not want the property to be sold and divided. With her daughters in mind, she said, “None of the four of us wanted that. We wanted to keep the land open.”

The forest association has been “reaching out to large property owners in town,” Mr Peterson said, with the hopes of saving the land. “We’re giving people alternatives and options, especially if they have a fondness for the property and want to see it preserved.”

Ms Howat said, “We would like to see other people do the same sort of thing.” She again mentioned that they had been “thinking about it for years.” Smiling, she joked, “We think slowly, cautiously — well, when you’re doing something in perpetuity, you’d better.”

The Howats’ 68 acres intersects other forest association parcels, creating “a large, undivided path” in Sandy Hook, Mr Peterson noted. In a recent press release, Mr Eckenrode added, “With a conservation easement in place for this property, it is our hope that the neighboring property owners will also consider their land holdings for additional easements or donation for the benefit of future generations.” With a last glance Friday at the old stonewalls, Mr Peterson said, “We hope the example you set will spur others.”

A Touch Of History

The property’s features are filled with history, and had originally obtained its drinking water from the Snake Rock Farm well. Water supply later included springs bubbling up from the upper portions of the property. A stone foundation still stands, which once supported a spring house, and continues to support a head of water creating a small and pristine seasonal pond. Not far from the spring remains a well maintained water tower that replaced the original tower that was struck by lightning and burned. The original water tower, according to family lore, was acquired from one of the local railroads when it went out of business.

The tower also was once fed from the spring house by a hydraulic ram pump and stored as much as three months worth of water. Around 1920, the water powered pump was supplemented with a gas engine but remained in use through the late 1960s. The family, with help from a local plumber, had made frequent efforts to repair a variety of pumps throughout the years and patch the cracks, most often believed to be due to lightning strikes.

Adding some family history, Ms Howat said that the old family homestead was actually farther down Route 34. The property and family tree are linked to former Connecticut Governor Luzon Burrett Morris. Born in Newtown, he attended Yale University in 1850, and later became the 52nd governor in the late 1800s.

Adding nostalgia, Mr Howat noted, “In the 18th Century, there was a little community called Zoar …” In town historian Daniel Cruson’s book, Images of America, Newtown, a photograph on page 58 shows Snake Rock Farm with a caption that includes, “A rural road in Zoar … shows a section of Route 34 … this was the center of the Zoar section of town … to the right is Snake Rock Farm, a working farm for the Beers family and later a summer retreat for the Morris and Hadley families …” Located in Newtown today are Zoar Road, Zoar Cemetery and Lake Zoar. Just across the town line off of Route 34 in Monroe is Old Zoar Road in the Stevenson section of Monroe.

The Newtown Forest Association, formed in 1924, is Connecticut’s oldest private land trust and a 501(c)(3) charitable not-for-profit organization, and is not a town or municipal entity. The NFA is a private landowner that owns and protects more than 1,030 acres, and preserved more than 90 acres under conservation easements.