DINOSAURS IN NEW ENGLAND- IT’S A JURASSIC WORLD

A group of large, long‑necked dinosaurs walk through a dense prehistoric forest lit by warm golden sunlight. Tall trees rise around them, ferns cover the ground, and distant mountains fade into the background. Several pterosaurs glide overhead, adding depth to the ancient landscape.

⭐ Dinosaurs Always get my attention

The other night, as I was browsing through my streaming services for something new to watch, I stumbled across a documentary about how feathers developed in dinosaurs. I really enjoyed it — lots of AI‑generated dinos racing across prehistoric landscapes, parallels to modern birds, and a fresh twist on the whole “bird brain” idea. Turns out they were pretty intelligent.

Anyway, that got me thinking about dino digs, trackways, and all that good stuff. I actually visited a dinosaur dig in South Dakota once, and there’s that show Dino Hunters set in Montana, Wyoming, and South Dakota. And of course there’s the famous dinosaur trackway in Texas. It always feels like we’re headed west to find the remains of these creatures.

Nope. If you’re New England born and raised, you can see dinosaur tracks right here in the Northeast. We have our share too. Not that a western trip isn’t a great vacation option — but let’s think about what’s closer to home.

Once you start looking into it, you realize New England has some genuinely amazing prehistoric secrets tucked between its forests, highways, and old mill towns. One of the best examples is right in western Massachusetts:

🦕 Dinosaur Footprints Reservation — Holyoke, MA

This place is a gem. It’s an 8‑acre stretch of sandstone along Route 5 where hundreds of Early Jurassic dinosaur tracks are preserved exactly where the animals walked about 190 million years ago. No casts, no replicas — the real deal.

It’s incredibly easy to visit:

  • Location: 1099 US‑5, Holyoke, MA
  • Open: April 1–November 30, sunrise to sunset
  • Cost: Free
  • Walk: A short 0.2‑mile path from the parking area

Once you’re there, you can wander along a simple trail and see:

  • Tracks from four distinct types of dinosaurs
  • Fossilized ripple marks from ancient pools
  • Plant impressions and invertebrate traces
  • Layers of sandstone that literally hold the footsteps of creatures who lived long before New England had forests, colonists, or even mountains in their current shape

A couple of rules keep the site safe:

  • No crossing the railroad tracks
  • Dogs must stay leashed
  • No mountain biking

If you want to make a day of it, the Amherst College Museum of Natural History is nearby and has the world’s largest collection of dinosaur tracks — over 1,700 specimens, many from the Connecticut River Valley. Granby, MA also has additional track sites if you’re in full dino‑detective mode.

And here’s the funny part…

Even when you’re in western Massachusetts, you’re still kind of “going west” for dinosaur tracks — just not that far west. Holyoke, Granby, Amherst… they all sit along the Connecticut River Valley, which turns out to be one of the richest dinosaur trackway regions in the entire country.

Follow that ancient rift basin south, and you hit one of the biggest dinosaur track discoveries in North America.

🦖 Dinosaur State Park — Rocky Hill, Connecticut

If Massachusetts gives you a taste of New England’s prehistoric past, Connecticut serves the full entrée.

Dinosaur State Park is home to over 2,000 dinosaur footprints, most attributed to a three‑toed carnivore called Eubrontes. The tracks were discovered in 1966 during construction work — imagine being the person who looked down and realized the bulldozer had just uncovered a dinosaur highway.

Only a portion of the site is visible under the geodesic dome, but thousands more tracks remain buried for preservation. It’s one of the largest trackways ever found, and it’s only a short drive from anywhere in southern New England.

The park also has:

  • A museum with exhibits on the Triassic/Jurassic world
  • Outdoor trails through the rift‑valley landscape
  • A casting area where kids (and adults, no judgment) can make their own plaster track replicas

It’s the perfect example of why this post had to become Dinos in New England, not just Dinos in Massachusetts. The whole region is part of the same prehistoric story.

Closing

So go west, you dino hunters of today — just don’t go as far as you thought. Explore western Massachusetts and the Connecticut River Valley. Wander the sandstone, follow the ancient rift, and let those fossilized footprints pull you straight back into the age of dinosaurs. All of it waiting right here in our own backyard.

One More Thing

If you’re craving something a little more fantastical after all that real science, you can also check out Dino Safari at CambridgeSide. It’s a walk‑through adventure featuring life‑size animatronic dinosaurs, hands‑on fossil digs, a scavenger hunt, and even a virtual‑reality experience. It’s a limited‑time exhibit, closing on September 7, so don’t wait too long to visit.

 

The Great Chowder Divide

Clam laden New England Chowder with it's cream base sets the stage for this culinary debate

Cream vs. Tomato, and the Day Massachusetts Nearly Legislated Soup

Let me start with a confession:
I don’t actually like clams.

There, I said it. Full transparency.
I’ll happily eat around them, enjoy the broth, dip the crackers, and savor the moment — but the clams themselves? They can stay in the bowl and live their best life without me.

And yet… here I am writing about chowder. Because chowder isn’t just about clams. It’s about identity, tradition, and one of the most passionate food debates New England has ever cooked up.

And yes — it was almost illegal to put tomatoes in it.


The 1939 Chowder Crisis: A Massachusetts Original

It didn’t come from rumor or restaurant gossip.
No whispered “my cousin’s friend swears this happened” stories.
This moment lives in the official records of the Massachusetts legislature.

In 1939, Representative Cleveland Sleeper of Rockport, Massachusetts introduced a bill to ban tomatoes from clam chowder. He believed the integrity of New England chowder was under threat, and he was ready to defend it with the full force of government.

Sleeper even staged a chowder cook‑off to prove his point:

  • One pot of classic, cream‑based New England chowder
  • One pot of tomato‑based Manhattan chowder

The cream version won — of course it did — and the bill quietly faded away. But the message was loud and clear:

In Massachusetts, chowder is white. Full stop.


New England Clam Chowder: The Creamy Classic

This is the chowder that tastes like home, even if you don’t like clams. It’s the bowl you want on a cold day when the wind is coming off the water sideways.

What makes it unmistakably New England:

  • A rich, creamy broth
  • Potatoes, onions, and clams
  • Salt pork or bacon for depth
  • Oyster crackers bobbing like tiny buoys

It’s cozy. There’s a familiar nostalgia to it. It’s the culinary equivalent of a wool sweater and a nor’easter warning.

 


Manhattan Clam Chowder: The Tomato Rebel

Then there’s the red one.

Manhattan chowder swaps cream for tomatoes, creating a broth that’s bright, tangy, and a little bold. It’s lighter, more vegetable‑forward, and honestly? Pretty delicious — even if you have to whisper that in certain Massachusetts zip codes.

What defines it:

  • Tomato‑based broth
  • Carrots, celery, herbs
  • A lighter, almost Mediterranean feel
  • Clams that stand out instead of hiding in cream

It’s not trying to be New England chowder. It’s doing its own thing — and doing it well.


So Which One Wins?

Here’s the truth, clam‑skeptic though I may be:

They’re both good — just in different ways.

  • New England chowder is for comfort, cold days, and tradition.
  • Manhattan chowder is for brightness, lightness, and a little rebellion.

It’s like comparing a snowstorm to a sunny day. Both have their place — though only one requires you to shovel your driveway.


Final Ladleful: You Be the Judge

I may not love clams, but I do love a good food debate — and chowder brings out the best of them. Whether you’re Team Cream, Team Tomato, or Team “I’ll just take the crackers,” chowder tells a story worth sharing.

Now it’s your turn:

Which chowder do you swear by?
Creamy New England?
Tomato‑bright Manhattan?
Or do you have a family version that breaks all the rules?

Drop your thoughts, opinions, and observations — I can’t wait to hear where you land in the Great Chowder Divide.