Throughout the history of the United States, state boundaries have not always been fixed. Sometimes, even when they were — or are — fixed, circumstances lead to disagreements. Even if the border was formed in the 18th or 19th century, people in the 21st aren’t content to leave things alone.

Iowa hasn’t had an encounter with such action since statehood. In 1839, the border with Missouri was defined only by a line extending from the “Des Moines Rapids” — rapids Missourians declared to be a different set farther north. Missouri’s version of the line ran approximately across the middle of what is now Iowa’s southern tier of counties. Had that line stood, Clarinda and Corydon would be just inside Iowa; Bedford and Mount Ayr would answer to Jefferson City instead of Des Moines.

The governor of Missouri ordered taxes collected from residents south of that line, even though those residents considered themselves part of Iowa. When they refused, in order to get payment, tax collectors chopped down “three bee trees” to extract honey from them.

Governors of both states mobilized their militias — it was the first deployment of what would become the Iowa National Guard — to fight. As the armies stood on the border “making faces at each other,” as Andy Reddick wrote for RootsWeb, diplomats from both sides agreed to arbitration. The Honey War ended without a shot being fired, and the border was set in the aptly titled Supreme Court case Missouri v. Iowa.

Because of the inexact measuring methods of early American history, today’s lines don’t always correspond to what was intended. A botched survey in 1859 set the Texas-New Mexico border too far to the west, giving New Mexico a tiny “panhandle” by what would become Oklahoma. More importantly, though, it gave 603,485 grazing and oil-rich acres (and four current towns) to Texas.

In 2003, the New Mexico Senate began another attempt to do what the state had been attempting since being forced to give up the claim to join the Union in 1912. Sen. Shannon Robinson introduced a bill to get the land back. In other words, New Mexico wanted to mess with Texas.

The Albuquerque Tribune said of the bill, “If it advances to the floor, legislators will undoubtedly engage in one of their favorite sports, Texas-bashing.” A year ago Wednesday, the Senate unanimously passed a bill directing the attorney general to sue their neighbor, complete with the Texas-bashing. The Albuquerque Journal wrote, “The lives of people living in the disputed area would be vastly improved if New Mexico were to prevail ‘because they would no longer be Texans,’ Robinson said.”

On Jan. 7, The Associated Press reported a “duel” between the states’ land commissioners, but no shots were fired. “We’ll leave the lawyers to haggle over the border dispute for another century,” said New Mexico Land Commissioner Pat Lyons.

In the above two cases, at least the lands in question were attached to both of the states involved, but the newest border case doesn’t adhere to this seemingly obvious guideline.

Last week, the residents of Killington, Vt., voted to secede from the state and join New Hampshire. According to USA Today, the residents are upset about a nearly six-fold jump in property taxes.

The twist: Killington is 30 miles west of the state border, and is almost the same distance from New York state! Mileage-wise, the Iowa equivalent would be Maquoketa wanting to join Illinois or Sheldon wanting to be a part of South Dakota.

The Vermont Legislature and governor would have to approve the bid, and the idea of giving up a town in the middle of the state doesn’t have many supporters. The town isn’t going to give up, though. USA Today quoted Walter Findeisen as saying, “We’re hoping to enlist three or four other towns that would make a nice corridor to the New Hampshire border.”

As much as states try to change their borders, the physical borders of the state are also affected by forces beyond their control. Just ask the residents of Carter Lake. The Missouri River changed course in 1877 and left the town on the west side of the river but still under Iowa’s jurisdiction. Today, much of the traffic between downtown Omaha and the airport goes through Carter Lake and drivers see “Welcome to Iowa” signs. Fortunately, Iowa and Nebraska haven’t tried to make this physical change a political one (and the sight of militias camped out along Abbott Drive in Omaha would look really silly). Other states affected by river changes keep their old lines, too, leaving some interesting borders for states to deal with.

Now that borders have been generally set for more than 100 years, it’s highly doubtful either the New Mexico or Vermont actions will be successful. It’s too much hassle. Whether by surveyor error or anger at taxes, the government and Rand McNally won’t be reaching for their correction pencils any time soon.