This week in Revolutionary War history, let’s check up on what was going on 250 years ago in the Thirteen Colonies. Last week, Washington condemned Continental Army troops for their poor treatment of local New Yorkers. Nathanael Greene also caught some New Yorkers trying to flee the draft across the Hudson River to the British camps on Staten Island. Delegate Samual Adams gave an impassioned speech to the Continental Congress, which then signed the Declaration of Independence.

            On August 2, 1776, General George Washington writes to President of the Continental Congress John Hancock, stressing the British buildup on Staten Island. He writes, “the enemy mean to make their grand push in this quarter, and that the good of the service requires every aid here that can be obtained.” He requests that all regiments throughout New England and the surrounding region be force-marched to New York to defend the city.

            He adds, “The enemy’s force is daily augmenting and becoming stronger by new arrivals – Yesterday General Greene reports that about forty sail, including tenders, came into the Hook. What they are, or what those have brought that have lately got in, I remain uninformed – However I think it probable they are part of Lord Howe’s fleet with the Hessian troops.” Washington sent this letter the same day that Hancock and the other congressional delegates signed the Declaration.

            On August 3, in his General Orders, Washington addresses the troops directly, informing them they may attend Sunday public worship and “rest after the great fatigue they have gone through.” He excuses most troops from fatigue duty on Sundays going forward, except those at the shipyard or for “special occasions.”

            Next, he does a bit of berating: “The general is sorry to be informed that the foolish, and wicked practice, of profane cursing and swearing [a vice heretofore little known in an American Army] is growing into fashion; he hopes the officers will, by example, as well as influence, endeavor to check it, and that both they, and the men will reflect, that we can have little hopes of the blessing of heaven on our arms.” Shucks.

            That same day, Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin Tupper writes from Dobbs Ferry, north of Yonkers on the Hudson. He describes a naval skirmish between small Continental ships and the British HMS Phoenix and HMS Rose. He notes his ships were damaged and one sailor was killed, but adds, “we wish to give them another drubbing.”

            On August 4, the Cherokee-American War of 1776 is heating up. Various skirmishes in the south culminated in Major Andrew Williamson ordering his men to raze the Cherokee settlements of Keowee, Soconee and Sugar Town in South Carolina. American raids had destroyed Cherokee farmland and other towns in the month prior, as the Carolina and Virginia militia companies sought to force the capitulation of the British-aligned tribes. By November, the Cherokee were forced to flee western South Carolina, giving up their land to American settlers.

            On August 5, speaking of South Carolina, the Declaration is read aloud for the first time in the state in Charleston. Back in New York, around this time, General Nathanael Greene and Representative John Jay begin recommending to General Washington and the Continental Congress that New York be burned rather than let the vital port fall into British hands. Foreboding, as the Great Fire of New York is not far off…

            On August 7, Lord John Murray, Earl of Dunmore, finally left Virginia and headed north to link with the Howes in New York. The British officer had served as Governor of Virginia until he fled to sea after the burning of Norfolk in January. The British evacuees finally left the area over half a year later.

            On August 8, Tench Tilghman of Maryland is made aide-de-camp to Washington. Tilghman, fluent in French, was the general’s previous aide until Alexander Hamilton’s appointment in March 1777. Hamilton, at this point in August 1776, was about 21 years old and would soon rally men to a small local artillery company tasked with defending New York.

This Week in Revolutionary War History

By Sam Bishop

            The outbreak of diarrheal illness caused by the parasite cyclospora is still making headlines. What do you need to know?

            Many organisms can cause acute diarrhea, including viruses such as the norovirus, bacteria such as salmonella, and parasites. Viruses have no specific treatment while bacteria and parasites have specific treatments available.

            The current culprit, cyclospora, is a microscopic parasite that can contaminate fresh food or water, and typically leads to severe watery diarrhea, along with bloating, loss of appetite and fatigue. Untreated, the diarrhea can last for many weeks to a few months. Treatment with the antibiotic trimethoprim-sulfa for a week relieves the symptoms within a few days.

            There are outbreaks of cyclosporiasis in the US every summer, but rarely on the scale of the current outbreak. The worst hit have been the upper mid-west states, with Michigan the epicenter, but 45 states have reported at least some cases. As of July 31, 20,374 cases have been reported to the CDC. More than 10,000 of these cases have been in Michigan. The real number of cases is almost certainly much higher, with many not reported.

            The source of the current outbreak seems to be contaminated lettuce from Mexico. Prior outbreaks have been linked to snap peas, raspberries and fresh herbs, as well as romaine lettuce.

            Avoidance is better than treatment! Know where your produce comes from. This may be a good time to buy your produce from local farmers’ markets. I’d avoid packaged “pre-washed” lettuce. Remove the outer leaves and carefully wash all produce. Cooking kills the parasite and is the safest way to get your veggies.

            Should you develop diarrhea that last more than a day or two, get medical help. The diagnosis can be made from a stool sample, and treatment clearly helps.

            P.s. – Remind your senators and reps that public health should never be a partisan issue – red or blue, we are all at the same risks from such outbreaks!

            Edward Hoffer MD is Associate Professor of Medicine, part-time, at Harvard.

What Does The Doctor Say?

By Dr. Edward Hoffer

            I’ve lost count of the slings and arrows that can derail a gardener’s quest for a backyard Eden. Some are inevitable; others seem almost biblical in their determination to thwart us. This column is about those battles as we try to live in harmony with the animal kingdom — and the creatures that have other ideas.

            This summer alone brought more than its share of garden dramas. It began with a yellow jacket nest beneath the deck, where our granddaughter suffered the misfortune of two painful stings. Then something started helping itself to the tomatoes, leaving half-eaten fruit scattered through the vegetable patch as if to taunt us. But my worst nightmare was yet to come. Our pair of beloved parakeets became prey to some unknown predator hunting under cover of darkness.

            At times it feels as though we’re living in Widow’s Bay — the Apple TV+ series about a cursed New England island — where you never know what unsettling surprise awaits around the next corner.

            Let me back up.

            After discovering the yellow jacket nest, I called pest control. To keep the parakeets well away from the insecticide, I moved their cage into the greenhouse for the night, closing it up except for one open window to provide ventilation.

            At 3:45 the following morning, I was jolted awake by a crash that sounded as though a body had fallen through the trees. I lay there listening, unable to identify the source, and waited until first light before investigating. What I found was devastating. Feathers were strewn across the greenhouse, the cage had been torn completely apart, and our parakeets were gone. Whatever entered the greenhouse had done its work with shocking speed and violence.

            This wasn’t the first time our little patch of paradise had turned into a crime scene.

            Two years earlier, my husband had carefully incubated several chicken eggs, and the chicks had grown into healthy, productive hens. They spent their days happily free-ranging, scratching for insects and dust bathing in the sunshine. Each evening, we rounded them up before dusk and ushered them safely back into their run.

            Except one evening, four of them — all Barred Rocks — decided to ignore curfew. After repeated attempts to coax them home, we reluctantly gave up and secured the henhouse for the night.

            The next morning, we found feathers. Lots of feathers. Three separate piles scattered across the property, but not a single body. It looked as though the earth had simply swallowed them.

            The next morning, while my husband was doing some carpentry on the back deck, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. One bedraggled hen cautiously emerged from the underbrush. Somehow, she had stayed hidden through the night and survived the attack.

            She is still with us today, joined by five other hens. The difference is that none of them free-range anymore. They now spend their days in a spacious enclosed run where they have plenty of room to scratch, forage and stretch their legs. Some lessons are learned the hard way.

            We have a few suspects: raccoons, fisher cats, owls, deer — and perhaps most likely, a fox. So far, there have been no bobcat or coyote sightings, although that hardly means they aren’t passing through. Woodchucks are plentiful here as well, and while their crimes are usually misdemeanors rather than felonies, one of them may well be the tomato thief.

            Several years ago, while we were away sailing for the weekend, a friend was feeding our pets when she spotted deer raiding our little orchard. She photographed them standing on their hind legs, stretching their necks skyward like giraffes to reach the apples. It was an astonishing sight, and a reminder that wildlife is endlessly resourceful.

            I’m already bracing myself for the annual raccoon invasion when the grapes ripen. Our vines climb over a trellis beside the deck, and in years past I’ve witnessed what can only be described as bacchanalian gatherings beneath them. One night, around two in the morning, two young raccoons tumbled through an open skylight into the house. Their frantic mother, crying outside the back door, was what woke me. The youngsters were desperately trying to climb back out to her, and I helped by removing the window screen so they could scramble to safety. Apart from one rather macabre discovery — an adult raccoon caught when a skylight closed — the encounter ended without further harm. These days, the grapes still grow, but the skylights are firmly shut every evening. Some precautions are simply non-negotiable.

            As maddening as these encounters can be, they’ve also made me curious. I want to know who shares this little corner of the world with us. We’re installing wildlife cameras behind the house in hopes of identifying our nocturnal visitors. Raccoons, fishers, owls, foxes, woodchucks — they’ve all been seen here at one time or another. Then there’s the large burrow beside the compost pile. Who lives there? A woodchuck? A fox? Something else entirely?

            Perhaps this is the next chapter in my gardening education. I may yet become a small-scale David Attenborough, documenting the secret lives of the creatures that believe my garden belongs to them as much as it does to me.

            “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” – Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5

The Seaside Gardener

By Laura McLean