Every autumn, the forests of New England erupt into a patchwork of scarlet, gold, orange, and brown that draws millions of visitors from around the world. Yet the story of ‘leaf peeping’ is more than a tale of modern tourism—it is a story written on Indigenous homelands. The Wabanaki peoples of northern New England, including the Abenaki, Penobscot, and Passamaquoddy, along with nations such as the Wampanoag, Narragansett, Mohegan, and Nipmuc farther south, have inhabited these woodlands for millennia, reading the seasons through the changing leaves. The brilliant reds of the sugar maple and red maple that tourists admire today carried deep seasonal and cultural meaning long before the first foliage tours. Understanding how leaf peeping became a phenomenon requires tracing the land itself—its clearance, abandonment, and remarkable regeneration—through a Native historical lens.
The Sciences Behind the Spectacle: Why New England Glows
Every autumn, deciduous trees stop producing chlorophyll, the green pigment that powers photosynthesis. As historian and scientific research confirms, trees take their cues from day length, temperature, and moisture, ramping down photosynthesis and reabsorbing nutrients from their leaves before the harsh New England winter. Brown, yellow, and orange pigments—previously masked by chlorophyll—begin to shine through. ‘Those pigments are always in the leaf,’ explains Alexandra Kosiba, a forest ecophysiologist at the University of Vermont. ‘They just get exposed.’
Red pigments, called anthocyanins, are different: they are produced fresh each fall by certain trees, especially sugar maples. Scientists believe the red coloration may act as a kind of plant sunscreen. Sunny days followed by cool nights tend to produce the most vibrant displays.
What makes New England exceptional, according to Stephanie A. Spera, an associate professor of geography at the University of Richmond who studies climate change effects on foliage in Acadia National Park, is the region’s unique mix. ‘New England’s got that sweet spot of red and yellow and orange and brown, which I think is special,’ she says. Far more trees turn red and yellow in New England than in other temperate regions worldwide. Red maples and sugar maples generate much of the display, with contributions from beech, birch, sumac, sassafras, and ash. Even low foliage such as blueberry bushes turns bright red.
Ancient Roots: Autumn Reverence Across Cultures
The enjoyment of fall colors is no modern invention. In ancient Greece, Theophrastus, the so-called father of botany, wrote about autumn leaves. In Japan, the tradition of momijigari—’red leaves hunting’—dates back at least to the eighth century. In North America, Indigenous nations developed sophisticated seasonal calendars tied to the changing forest, long before European observers arrived. The sugar maple in particular held enduring significance for woodland peoples of the Northeast, whose maple sugaring traditions remain a living cultural practice. The Haudenosaunee, or Iroquois Confederacy, and Wabanaki nations also shaped these forests directly through land stewardship. As scholars have documented, practices such as controlled burning cultivated the land and shaped ecosystems, influencing the very composition of woodlands that later enraptured settlers and tourists.
From Cleared Farmland to Regrown Forest: The 1800s Transformation
Here lies the historical irony at the heart of leaf peeping. By the mid-1800s, up to 80 percent of New England’s land had been cleared for farms and houses, a transformation that displaced Indigenous communities and erased countless ancestral landscapes. But as U.S. agricultural production shifted westward, New England’s farms were abandoned and its forests began to regrow on a massive scale.
The returning woods captured the imagination of the region’s writers. In 1862, Henry David Thoreau called October the ‘month of painted leaves’ and lamented that the ‘autumnal change of our woods has not made a deep impression on our own literature yet.’ He mused: ‘I think that the change to some higher color in a leaf is an evidence that it has arrived at a late and perfect maturity.’ Around the same time, fellow Massachusetts resident Emily Dickinson penned the lines: ‘The Maple wears a gayer scarf / The field a scarlet gown.’
The Birth of Foliage Tourism
Revering fall’s beauty became increasingly fashionable as the 1800s progressed. In 1877, a hotel in New York’s Catskill Mountains—just outside New England—advertised its ‘beautiful fall foliage,’ one of the earliest known commercial appeals to autumn scenery. A few years later, a Connecticut newspaper reported on the popularity of a train ride to view ‘grand’ fall foliage.
Tourism ramped up in Vermont around the same era, largely to natural spas, with fall foliage as an added attraction, according to Lisa Chase, director of the Vermont Tourism Research Center at the University of Vermont. By the 1930s and 1940s, New England’s fall tourism industry was reportedly in full swing, with one Vermont newspaper describing the six-state region as a ‘mecca’ for foliage seekers.
Then, in the mid-1960s, the Bennington Banner, another Vermont newspaper, published the first-known reference to ‘leaf peepers’—an apparent spinoff of ‘leaf peekers’ that has remained in the popular lexicon ever since. ‘I think the term leaf peeper was then and continues to be a little controversial,’ Chase notes. ‘It’s not always the most positive term in every sense.’
Indigenous Homelands Beneath the Foliage
While tourists flock today by bus, car, and cruise ship to the Berkshires of Massachusetts, the Green Mountains of Vermont, the White Mountains of New Hampshire, and Acadia in Maine, these are not neutral landscapes. The Green Mountains and the lands surrounding Acadia are part of the ancestral territory of the Wabanaki—’People of the Dawnland.’ The Berkshires lie within the homelands of the Mohican people, and southern New England encompasses the territories of the Wampanoag, Narragansett, Nipmuc, and Pequot nations. FolOiage tourism economies were built on the same lands from which Native communities were displaced. The creation of national parks, including Acadia, fits within a broader conservation movement whose costs to Indigenous peoples—documented in explorations of the conservation legacy and displacement of Native Americans—remain part of an honest historical accounting.
Historical Context & Key Cultural Takeaways
- The forests are young. New England’s celebrated woodlands largely regenerated after mid-1800s farm abandonment, following the clearance of up to 80 percent of regional land—a transformation entwined with the displacement of Native nations.
- Autumn reverence is ancient and cross-cultural. From Theophrastus in ancient Greece to Japanese momijigari to Indigenous seasonal knowledge of the Northeast, humans have long marked the turning of the leaves.
- ‘Leaf peeper’ is a modern coinage. The first-known print reference appeared in Vermont’s Bennington Banner in the mid-1960s, and the term remains somewhat controversial among observers.
- Climate change is reshaping the tradition. Spera’s research shows peak foliage in Acadia now arrives more than a week later than in the 1950s, and has become less predictable.
- The land carries Indigenous history. Acadia, the Green Mountains, and the Berkshires remain the ancestral homelands of the Wabanaki, Mohican, and southern New England nations, whose relationships to these forests predate tourism by millennia.
Frequently Asked Questions
When did leaf peeping become popular in New England?
Literary admiration of fall color grew in the 1860s through writers like Thoreau and Dickinson. Commercial foliage tourism emerged in the late 1800s—a Catskills hotel advertised ‘beautiful fall foliage’ in 1877—and the industry reached full swing by the 1930s and 1940s, when Vermont newspapers called the region a foliage ‘mecca.’
Why is New England’s fall foliage considered the best in the world?
Scientists note that far more tree species turn red and yellow in New England than in other temperate regions. A distinctive mix of red and sugar maples, beech, birch, sumac, and sassafras—together with sunny days and cool nights—produces the region’s rare combination of red, yellow, orange, and brown.
Where did the term ‘leaf peeper’ come from?
The first-known printed use appeared in Vermont’s Bennington Banner in the mid-1960s, apparently as a spinoff of ‘leaf peekers.’ Researchers note the term was, and remains, somewhat contested in tone.
Which Indigenous nations are connected to New England’s foliage landscapes?
The Wabanaki peoples—including the Abenaki, Penobscot, Passamaquoddy, Maliseet, and Mi’kmaq—inhabit northern New England and Maine, while the Mohican, Wampanoag, Narragansett, Nipmuc, Massachusett, Mohegan, and Pequot nations are historically tied to the region’s southern and western woodlands.
How is climate change affecting fall foliage?
Studies show New England now experiences more extreme rainfall, which can dull foliage by encouraging fungal disease and knock leaves down prematurely. Research by Spera and colleagues found Acadia’s peak foliage now arrives more than a week later than in the 1950s and is less predictable—complicating trips booked months in advance.
Cultural Legacy and Modern Preservation
The season of ‘painted leaves,’ in Thoreau’s words, has wowed visitors for centuries—but its future is not guaranteed. As Spera observes, ‘It’s one of those things you take for granted. It would be nice to have these things for future generations.’ Preserving the spectacle means preserving the forests themselves, and with them the living histories of the Native nations who stewarded these lands first. Modern foliage tourism, when pursued with cultural awareness, offers an opportunity to honor both the ecological science and the Indigenous heritage of the Northeast’s remarkable autumn landscapes.
