When I
was a boy, I spent my summers at my grandfather’s farm in Missouri. It was a
wonderful place, especially for a boy who spent the rest of the year in the crowded
confines of south side Chicago. In addition to two sets of loving grandparents, acres of
space and great places to explore, there were the animals—horses, cattle, sheep and
pigs.
In many ways, I liked the pigs best. They were the
funniest. They weren’t afraid, especially if you brought them food. And I loved their
boundless appetite. It was as if nothing could stop them in the pursuit of corn, slop and
feed. Their zest for life was summed up in a single word—eat.
That’s why one summer day, when I was about four
years old, I decided to feed the pigs. I opened the corn crib door, picked up the giant
scoop, and began shoveling corn over the fence.
I shoveled. They ate. I shoveled some more. They ate
more. I shoveled still more. They ate still more.
Hours went by. I kept shoveling. The pigs kept eating.
By noon, I had half emptied the corn crib. I thought I might stop to get something to eat
myself when my grandfather found me. Grabbing my arm, he said, "My God, boy,
you’ve given these pigs six month’s worth of corn. Why did you do it?"
I said, "Grandpa, the pigs were still
hungry."
I remembered this story when the loggers invaded our
county. They were hungry, too. Loggers see trees as dollars. Every stump means more money.
They can’t stop. It’s their nature, their goal, their life. You can’t blame
a logger for being a logger.
But someone must watch the corn crib door. Otherwise,
there will be no corn in the future. Over cutting trees, like over fishing, over hunting
and over use of fossil fuels, steals from the future. And, perhaps appropriately, it
destroys the very industries and livelihoods of those who can’t practice restraint.
They may call cutting 60 percent of the mature trees
(18 inches in diameter or greater) selective, but after two logging operations, you have
darn few mature trees. But that’s not all.
Logging on geologically unstable hills causes slides
that can damage property and kill people. The logging operations in Redwood Estates above
Highway 17, the two downslope from Villa del Monte, the ones along Bear Creek Road and
Summit Road—all are on steep slopes with known landslides.
Surely, you say, the State would protect us from such
obvious dangers. Wrong.
This brings us to the bear—Smokey the bear, the
one we thought was protector of the forest. The California Department of Forestry is
charged with protecting our forests. They are, by and large, doing a terrible job.
They are approving timber "harvest" plans
that don’t even meet the minimum requirements of their own California Forest Practice
Rules. In fact, they approve almost every plan submitted.
What’s worse, at every inspection and hearing that
I’ve attended, the California Department of Forestry forester spent most of the time
defending the logger’s plan. This isn’t their job. It’s as if a policeman
was explaining that it was OK for someone to run a red light, because he had a special
permit, or his eyes were blue, or it was the profitable thing to do. They just keep
shoveling.
In effect, the California Department of Forestry is
subsidizing activities that are harmful to our environment—a big name for the only
place we have to live. It’s a place that is losing its biotic content (dying) and
accumulating toxins. A place where the air is losing oxygen and the water is fouled.
Less than one percent of our frontier forest is left.
Loss of diversity in "managed" forests has led to an increase in infections,
such as Lyme disease. And enough with the owl jokes. Killing off another species is
neither funny nor inconsequential. In fact, the coastal redwood may soon be on the
endangered species list, too.
Something is very wrong. Not with the loggers, but with
the people who are charged with regulating their industry.
In the end, irresponsible logging will be stopped,
either by running out of trees or by an enraged citizenry. In the meantime, we can
encourage less greed, more restraint.
You can make a difference. Support environmental
protection. Write your legislator. Donate time and money to environmental organizations.
Reduce your use of wood products, especially those from old growth redwoods, and tell your
Japanese friends, who now use the most California redwood, to try American recycled wood
and plastic.
Smokey found a way to stop forest fires. He simply
encouraged loggers to cut them down. So now it’s necessary to support a different
animal—the watch dog. Support your local watch dog organization— CRFM, NRL,
RECOIL or Summit Watershed Protection League.
You may wish to sign a petition for a state initiative
to be placed on the November 1998 ballot. For more information, call or e-mail Elise Moss,
Neighbors for Responsible Logging, elise moss@techie.com or 231-9863.
Smokey says, "Only you can stop forest
fires." But the watchdogs cry, "Only you can stop forest death."
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