The Cure

I grumble as sweat trickles into my eyes from under my hat, swatting at the mosquitoes buzzing around my head on this blazing hot, muggy summer day. Trudging through the abandoned brome grass pasture full of waist-high wild berry vines the size of my thumb, I keep moving towards the black velvety darkness of the nearby forest.

I scoot into the forest and under its mature tree canopy where the foliage of mile-high black walnuts, maples and poplars block out midday heat.  In the velvety darkness the temperature drops a good 20 degrees. I exhale and enjoy the narrow path that winds its way along the bluffs of the Mississippi to a stone outcrop that opens up to a spectacular view of the river.

But I’m unsettled.  The forest is not healthy.  Under the mature trees lies a woodland floor that is barren of all bushes, shrubs and young trees.  It is eerily quiet.  There is no sound; no chirping birds, no nesting turkeys or rabbits to startle, no visible deer tracks and no animal droppings. 

What makes this forest so beautiful is leading to its demise.  Acres of tall, mature trees have grown an impenetrable green, leafy canopy that prevents sunlight from reaching the woodland floor.  The Cure – increase the amount of sunlight to the woodland floor by strategically removing trees in winter when they are dormant.   New saplings diversify the age of the forest.  Brush provides food and cover that attracts woodland creatures and birds. 

While easy to comprehend, The Cure was ugly.  In dense woods, every felled tree knocked down or damaged at least five or more additional trees.  When the snow melted from the woodland floor it exposed the dead corpses of fallen trees.  Some of the standing trees stood sadly without limbs.  The Cure left my once beautiful forest looking like a scarred war zone.   

My forester promised that this was normal and that with time it would get better.  It was hard to look at and I stopped walking the trail.  But with spring and plenty of April showers came several sets of muddy deer prints alongside my favorite trail.  Animal droppings of different sizes and shapes could be found in and around the fallen trees.  A pair of bald eagles rode the air currents up the bluffs as they talked to one another in their soprano chirps.  And most magical of all, a snowy owl greeted me with an icy stare on several consecutive mornings.  Maybe The Cure could work after all.

Now in June, trees have leafed and saplings have popped up EVERYWHERE.  The greenery hides much of the forestry carnage.  In several years the fallen trees will blend into the woodland floor.  Young seedlings will grow and take the place of older trees, creating waves of generations that will keep the woodland vibrant buzzing, chirping and snorting.  And I’m walking the trail again.