Although this flat upland surface is more complex than it appears to the eye, it dominates all of southern New England, and ramifying arms of it penetrate northward into the White Mountains of New Hampshire and Maine. Another great arm passes west of Mount Greylock and spreads out between the Catskill Mountains and the Adirondacks. During the long period of erosion when it was formed, New England was reduced nearer to the grade of the main rivers than at any other time either before or since, and only rocks which have effectively resisted all later assaults by the geologic processes of destruction surmount the surface. To the eye, the region appears so nearly planed that it has been called the New England peneplane.
The upland continues southward through the Berkshire and Litchfield Hills, descending in a series of almost imperceptible steps towards Long Island Sound and the Atlantic. A few miles south of Litchfield, Connecticut, its low angle of declivity increases abruptly, and the more steeply inclined surface passes beneath the waters of Long Island Sound. The sudden change in dip suggests that two erosional planes are present and that each was formed under somewhat different circumstances and in different periods of geologic time. The soundness of this surmise can be demonstrated in Long Island where sediments laid in a Cretaceous sea rest upon the older and more sharply inclined erosional plane and rise approximately to the level of the New England upland. The deposits form a wedge between the two planes, and their Cretaceous age supplies a series of dates that would otherwise be difficult to establish in New England’s geological history. Erosion fashioned the New England upland in the early and middle epochs of the Tertiary period, immediately following the deposition of sediments in the Cretaceous sea. And the southward sloping plane upon which those sediments rest records an even earlier episode of denudation—an episode lost in the shuffle of later events in Massachusetts but preserved in fragmentary form in Connecticut, thanks to the protection afforded by the sedimentary cover.
Had we lived in central New England when erosion of the upland and of the younger straths was in progress, we would have noted that the valley forms were well defined in the headwaters and lower reaches of the streams, which made their way through a country of light-colored or gray clayey soil. In the middle reaches the valley boundaries were blurred and indistinct, and the country through which they flowed was surfaced by red and sandy soil. The middle region is now the lowland, but even then it formed a depression athwart the topographic and hydrographic features of the country; and its distinctive red soil resembled alluvial wash or fill in a long basin. Its low relief would have been as impressive in early Tertiary time as its higher relief is today, for then it had little topographic competition anywhere between the present sites of New Haven, Connecticut, and Northfield, Massachusetts.
The land had one dominant characteristic—a relatively flat or faintly terraced surface. But this surface concealed a mosaic made of an infinite variety of rocks, each responding to the attack of weather in its own particular way. Erosion has brought out the pattern of the mosaic, and we have retraced the steps in its development. Viewing the evolution of the countryside in retrospect, we see its features take form much as a worker on an inlaid bronze might watch the design come out when it is etched. The creation of the mosaic or inlay is another part of the history, and the relief of the land now permits closer scrutiny of the pattern than would have been possible in Cretaceous time.
The Mosaic of Central Massachusetts
The great artisan incorporated three main features in the mosaic beneath the New England upland, and from them erosion developed the major pattern of the present landscape. The three units of the pattern comprise a somewhat heterogeneous but durable foreground in the east, a weak inlaid design in the center, and a moderately homogeneous and durable background in the west. The foreground and background are simply a suitable base for the younger, central feature of the design—an inlay which was completed in Triassic time, while the mighty dinosaurs were beginning to gain confidence as the new rulers of the earth. Skillful artistry and complicated technique were expended on the Triassic inlay, for in part it was rolled in, partly melted in, and some of it was cut in amid the tougher materials now found on either side.
The Red Rock Basin
The youngest ingredients which were incorporated in the inlay are a series of fine-grained red sandstones and consolidated clays or shales. They are horizontal layers, turned up slightly at the edges of the lowland, but elsewhere they lie in almost horizontal beds that extend from South Hadley through Chicopee (Chicopee shale), Springfield, and Longmeadow (Longmeadow sandstone) to a point just south of Hartford. Near the hills which form the eastern boundary of the lowland these fine-grained sediments locally give way to coarse tabular deposits of angular gravel, which appear along the base of the Wilbraham Mountains and again in Mount Toby and northward. The deposits are isolated or detached masses which resemble fans emerging from mountains, not unlike the more modern sands and gravels which the Westfield River left where it emerged from the western hills. But the Triassic gravels are red, and they are firmly cemented into conglomerate; yet it is plain that this part of the inlay was made by washing and rolling the red muds, sands, and cobbles into a depressed basin waiting to receive them.
The southern part of the basin was deepened, and the highlands were rejuvenated spasmodically from Springfield to New Haven. The sinking of the lowland on the west and the rising of the highlands on the east took place along a fracture plane, commonly called “the eastern border fault,” near the eastern limits of the red sediments throughout that part of the valley. The rocks composing the alluvial fans are flexed sharply downward east of Portland, Connecticut, like compressed pages in a book, where the great eastern mountain block pushed obliquely against them. In this way the mountain range was renewed as erosion wore it away, and the basin was deepened periodically as the wash from the highlands filled it. The intermittent uplift sustained the growth of the fans along the edge of the lowland, but the frequent recurrence of movement never permitted these graded accumulations of waste to extend far out from their mountain sources.
The great fracture, which sharply delimits rocks of different origins, and the deformation in the strata near Portland record, as surely as the writings of any human historian, a tale of periodic rock compression and paroxysmal release that must have been accompanied by violent tremors. Connecticut and Massachusetts had their earthquakes and had them as violent as any now originating in the western ranges of the United States and Mexico; but happily they shook a land which was overrun by the dinosaurs, and which was not yet ready for human habitation.