Vermont is more than rolling hills, picturesque towns, and vibrant fall foliage, it’s a state full of surprises, including a surprisingly long list of quirky laws.
These odd regulations, some dating back decades or even centuries, reveal a fascinating glimpse into the state’s colorful history and the traditions its residents hold dear. For tourists, encountering these rules can be both amusing and bewildering, turning an ordinary visit into an unexpected adventure.
From laws that seem downright bizarre today to rules rooted in Vermont’s old-world ways, each regulation tells a story about the people and communities that shaped this corner of New England.
Whether it’s a law about how animals are treated, local etiquette that outsiders often overlook, or unusual restrictions that seem out of place in the modern world, these rules are a reminder that Vermont isn’t just scenic, it’s delightfully idiosyncratic.
For travelers curious about more than just the landscapes and maple syrup, Vermont’s quirky laws offer a peek behind the curtain. Discovering them adds a layer of charm, humor, and intrigue to any trip, making your visit a little more memorable, and a lot more Vermont.
1. “Whistling Underwater”, The Myth That Won’t Die
The claim that Vermont bans “whistling underwater” appears on nearly every “weird law” list. In reality, no active statute prohibits it. Legal researchers and the Vermont Historical Society confirm it’s urban legend, likely born from a misread municipal by-law or satire printed in the mid-1900s.
Still, the myth persists because it fits Vermont’s reputation for quirky local rules. Visitors joking about “breaking the law” in a lake photo have kept it alive for decades.
The takeaway: no one in Vermont will fine you for subaquatic whistling, but the story itself reflects how small-town humor and oral tradition can transform into folklore.
In a state where community newsletters once carried mock ordinances to entertain readers, this one simply never faded.
2. Religious Test Clause, A Relic of the Constitution
Early versions of Vermont’s Constitution required officeholders to profess belief in a “Supreme Being.” While this clause still appears in some historical documents, it has no legal effect today.
Federal constitutional rulings, particularly Torcaso v. Watkins (1961), made all religious tests for public office unenforceable.
Vermont has never applied the rule in modern governance, and subsequent constitutional revisions rendered it symbolic only. Yet tourists stumbling upon the clause in old references often assume it’s active law.
It isn’t, but it remains an intriguing window into the state’s 18th-century moral framework. The language reflects how early Vermonters tied civic virtue to faith, even as modern Vermont is among the most secular states in America. What survives is history, not enforcement.
3. The “Mandatory Firearm” Tradition
Vermont’s strong gun culture fuels a long-circulating rumor that certain towns can “require residents to own firearms.” No current statute grants that power. The confusion traces back to historic militia laws and to comparisons with Kennesaw, Georgia (where such a law actually exists).
Vermont’s real distinction is its “constitutional carry” policy, citizens may possess and carry firearms without a permit, one of the oldest such provisions in the U.S.
That independent streak may have inspired the myth. While no town forces ownership, the state’s hands-off approach embodies its broader philosophy: trust citizens, regulate lightly, and let local custom rule daily life.
Visitors can safely admire that ethos without fearing compulsory armament.
4. Sunday Dancing Prohibitions
Until the mid-20th century, many Vermont towns banned public dancing on Sundays under so-called “blue laws.” These rules stemmed from colonial-era Sabbath observance and remained locally enforced well into the 1930s. Town selectboards had to vote annually to allow or forbid dances.
Most towns repealed or ignored the rule after World War II, and no state-level ban remains. Still, historic societies preserve minutes documenting debates over “public morality” at Grange Halls and barns.
For modern travelers, it’s an amusing contrast: the state now hosts lively folk festivals nearly every weekend.
What once symbolized restraint now highlights Vermont’s evolution from puritanical quietude to open, communal celebration, without a single citation for Sunday foot-tapping.
5. Margarine Was Required to Be Dyed Pink
This one really happened. From 1890 through the 1960s, Vermont, like several dairy-rich states, required margarine to be dyed pink to distinguish it from butter.
The goal: protect dairy farmers by making the cheaper substitute unappealing. Violating the law could bring fines or seizure of goods under 6 V.S.A. § 313.
Enforcement faded once federal food-coloring standards changed, but Vermont’s devotion to dairy remains legendary. Modern producers still proudly market “Vermont butter” as heritage quality, descended from the same industry the pink law defended.
For travelers touring creameries or the Ben & Jerry’s factory, the story illustrates how far Vermont would go to protect its signature trade. No pink margarine today, just a rosy chapter in agrarian economics.
6. Billboards Are Illegal
Vermont outlawed roadside billboards statewide in 1968, becoming one of only four U.S. states with such a ban (alongside Maine, Alaska, and Hawaii). The law aims to preserve scenic corridors, especially along Routes 7 and 100.
Businesses may use on-premise or directional signs, but large advertising structures visible from highways are prohibited.
For visitors, this absence is striking: endless mountain views unbroken by ads. The rule reflects Vermont’s deep environmental ethic and tourism strategy, nature, not neon, sells the state.
Enforcement continues under the Agency of Transportation, and local authorities strictly deny new billboard requests. It’s one “weird law” that residents fiercely defend as common sense.
7. Passing Across a Solid Yellow Line
Unlike most states, Vermont traffic law (23 V.S.A. § 1035) allows a driver to cross a solid yellow centerline to pass a slower vehicle when it is safe and clear to do so. The marking is advisory, not absolute.
This surprises out-of-state drivers who assume it’s strictly forbidden. The flexibility reflects Vermont’s rural geography, long, lightly traveled roads where strict double-line rules made little sense.
Still, if an accident occurs while passing, fault rests entirely with the driver’s judgment. The principle mirrors Vermont’s social culture: personal responsibility first, state oversight second.
Tourists should treat the rule as permission, not invitation, caution always wins over curiosity.
8. The Official Apple-Pie Companions
Under Vermont Statutes Title 1 § 512, apple pie is declared the state pie, and restaurants “serving apple pie should make a good faith effort” to offer it with cold milk, cheddar cheese, or vanilla ice cream.
The clause is deliberately playful, passed in 1999 to honor local dairy and apple farmers. It carries no penalty, but Vermonters take it as a matter of pride.
Many diners still serve a sharp slice of Cabot cheddar beside warm pie, embracing the sweet-savory contrast.
For tourists, it’s an edible example of how Vermont writes its culture into law, with humor, flavor, and deep respect for its producers.
9. Protecting Maple Syrup Integrity
Vermont’s maple laws are serious business. Under 6 V.S.A. § 495 and related food-labeling statutes, it is illegal to sell any product labeled “maple syrup” unless it is 100 percent pure maple sap, boiled to grade standards set by the state. Mislabeling can lead to fines up to $1,000 per offense.
This protection preserves Vermont’s global reputation for quality and deters counterfeit imports.
Tourists buying syrup at farm stands can trust the label, inspectors routinely test samples statewide.
It’s not a “quirky” rule so much as a proud safeguard of heritage agriculture. In Vermont, authenticity isn’t optional; it’s legislated.
10. No McDonald’s in Montpelier, by Choice, Not Law
Montpelier remains the only U.S. state capital without a McDonald’s, but no statute bans the chain. Local zoning and market size explain the absence: with roughly 8,000 residents, the capital simply can’t sustain a drive-through economy dominated by independent cafés.
City planners prioritize pedestrian-scale businesses and limit high-traffic development, effectively deterring large franchises without forbidding them. The result delights many visitors, a downtown of family-owned eateries, not golden arches.
What people call a “law” is really civic preference: a community choosing character over conformity. In true Vermont fashion, independence isn’t enforced, it’s lived.
Of Vermont’s famous “quirky laws,” only a handful, like the billboard ban, maple labeling, and apple-pie statute, exist in enforceable form.
The rest survive as folklore, local memory, or civic humor. Together they tell a story of a small state with an outsized personality, practical, proud, and a little peculiar.
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