Nearby Logging
On a walk in the woods around Empty Mountain just yesterday, a ruffed grouse thump-called for a mate amid the fits and starts of spring. It’s March in the snowy mountains, and all the two-legged locals have earned the return of the sun. Eager are many for the long winter’s end.
Deer tracks and elk scat accompanied us on a well-worn path we traversed through the nearby national forest, on a common route we like to take and have named Long Grass Trail. The trail, an old logging road, was mostly clear, but patches of snow remained in spots more shaded from the sun.
Not far down the trail, we came upon a new and active logging operation. We knew about the project. When we returned home in mid-February, big trucks were driving past our property empty, and leaving full of logs. And we’ve been able to hear the zings and motorized whirling of machines and saws. We knew they were close, but didn’t realize how close until yesterday.
I’d read about the operation in our local newspaper in May of last year. A pull-quote from the article (which I saved): “The project is located in one of the highest risk firesheds in the nation, and aligns with the USDA Forest Service’s Wildfire Crisis Strategy that works with partners to protect communities and improve the resilience of America’s Forests…the project will utilize a variety of management tools such as timber harvest, prescribed burning, and non-commercial mechanical vegetation treatments.”
The logging site is quite the scene. To my eyes, it’s a mixture of carnage and, dare I say, beauty. The poetry of industry, back set by evergreens and mountains. The raw beast machines with their specific uses and designated tasks. The huge piles of green boughs and tall stacks of red-brown wood. The cleverness and ingenuity of humans so directly on display. And it’s not as though the trees are being removed for no reason. It’s not as if the logs won’t be put to good use. Still. It’s a heartbreak to see. And the slash piles involve a lot of waste of good wood that could otherwise be used. But those loggers are out there making the woods of where we live a little safer, and for this I am sincerely grateful.
On our way back to the cabin from our walk, I held both the sorrow over the loss of the trees and the raw gutting of the land, and also an understanding of how this too is part of life, as two ravens, vocal and soaring, glided with freedom on the wind.
