Howling in the Woods

Fall, autumn, end of summer, call it what you may. It is truly a time of wonder in the UP. The hardwoods are nothing short of spectacular, their last brilliant hurrah before the long black and white winter. And that smell. There is truly no other smell that compares with woods in the fall. After the assorted smells of summer, fall is unique and engrossing. A last stand before the long freeze eliminates all smells. Well, not all smells. I've always thought the north wind of winter has a distinct smell, but most people just look at me askance when I suggest this to be true.

Fall is crunchy. The blanket of leaves makes stealth impossible. Niko, the pyr, high steps like he is walking on eggs. The scent of deer is everywhere, and our walks are very busy, as he catalogs and files away each individual scent. He is a great walking companion, never wanting to head for home. At every trail intersection we come upon, he knows which way leads away from home, and that would be his choice. He is, in my experience, pretty much tireless, and always so intensely interested in every step of the walk. We could all learn from him. 

These woods that we live in are so beautiful, so profound, so calming. They are also valuable. In dollars. Every tree can be measured in beauty, or in product. Whether saw logs or fiber for paper pulp, some see the woods and think in dollars. Let me acknowledge here, that I realize forests are a resource, and a valuable and essential one at that. I also want to make something of the woodlot we are entrusted with. But it is so much more than dollars. It is home to a huge cast of creatures, all beautiful and vulnerable. They share our walks with us, always at a distance, but present and watching. 

The howling I reference in the title is a new experience in our immediate area. It is not the call of one of our resident creatures. It is otherworldly. The howl is the sound of a diesel engine, running at sufficient RPM to power the hydraulics of a harvester, the newest machine for cutting timber. The howl is drowned out by the repeated screech of the powerful blade tearing through the next tree. These machines are like aliens, making their way through the uneven terrain of the forest floor, stopping briefly at each tree, to grasp it in the huge hydraulic claw long enough for the saw to instantly tear the tree from it's stump. Then moving on to the next, and the next, and the next. always howling, always moving. The sound is so loud it can be heard for a mile, and a group of these can clear cut a 40 acre parcel in a matter of a couple of days. The scene they leave looks like a bomb blast.

And these harvesters have come to our neighborhood. Clear cutting large swaths of forest, hardwood forest, for paper pulp. Fiber. Maximum return on investment, for a large national forest management company. No regard for the neighborhood, no regard for the habitat, no regard for the history and life in all these beautiful trees. No regard for anything but money, the bottom line.

Am I bitter? Perhaps. More sad than bitter I would suppose. Sad that people can have so little regard for other humans and animals. Sad that national companies are acquiring large tracts of UP forests, and have absolutely no idea the value they hold in our local culture. Sad that these beautiful trees will not regenerate in my lifetime. While I feel very fortunate that we own a large tract that is safe from such pillaging, the howling has come to our neighborhood, and it stays with you, once you have heard it.