You'll be hard pressed to find a quainter small town in the U.S. than Essex. There was violence here in 1814, when the Brits, naughty lot that they were and remain--snuck into the harbor and torched the American fleet. Today, though, there is only peace and gentility, complete with tree-lined streets, Fife and Drum parades, the lapping waters of the Connecticut River and classic Colonial homes. Even the birds live well in this former ship building village, founded in the mid-17th century--here are but a few of the avian abodes about town, and there is even a (bird) house of worship. Funny how many times "wings" was mentioned in the tiny prayer book we found inside.
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