The supervisors, for a while, thought they had found the answer by awarding the job to the Real Wood Co-op and their forester, Rudy Becking, who submitted a plan calling for a light, 'all-age, all-species' cut. The supes were unable to face the political heat generated from having given the job to the Earth Firsters! who comprised the majority of the Real Wood Co-op and withdrew the offer.
Last year, having avoided letting the Co-op know what was going on, the Supes renewed their efforts to log, and ended up hiring forester Stephen Smith, from Santa Cruz, to write a plan. This year the plan was filed, approved by CDF, and over the past few weeks the trees have been cut.
I am familiar with this bit of forest, last logged about 90 years ago, having walked in it a number of times over the last few years. On my first walk I was astounded at the depth of the 'duff'- that's the organic material on the ground comprised of fallen leaves, branches and trees which decompose and supply the nutrients for the future forest- a foot-and-a-half thick I was told later. At the time, I was only aware of the remarkable springiness it gave my walk.
I was also surprised at the sense I got of the forest's attempt to re-new itself after that original logging of 90 years ago. The hardwoods were largely gone, overshadowed by the conifers; the doug fir was diseased and seemed mostly on its way out; the 'white fir' was gone or going; some young hemlocks had seeded in; but, most remarkably, there was a stand of young redwood seedlings. A rarity, since redwood reproduction from seed is problematic and most of the second growth redwood we see results from stump sprouts. Large burnt-out stumps, snags, large downed logs, and remnant old growth trees added to its value as wildlife habitat. Its adjacency to the pygmy forest added another interesting element as the transition area between redwood and pygmy had a species mix and growth characteristics borrowed from both forest types.
Surely a place worthy of preservation and study. Alas, the Supes saw only money.
My walks of the last three weeks- as the trees were being cut- have resulted in these observations:
The forest had become a timber stand. Almost every place that I stood within the 68 acres I could look straight ahead and see sky, the trees having been cut heavily enough so there is no longer any 'interior forest'. Almost any place in the forest I could feel wind on my face; the forest had been opened to the effects of drying and windthrow. I believe many of the remaining trees will come down in winter storms. At least a dozen old growth trees were cut. (We were told only two were to be cut.) The redwood seedlings were thinned. Some of the skid trails had heavily disrupted the soil. A number of the trees that were not to be cut were damaged by bulldozers and many of them will now be removed. Snags were knocked down. Old redwood logs that had been down a hundred years were displaced so that trees could be felled and at least one of those long-downed redwood logs was removed from the ground and taken to the mill. I wondered, given the new exposure of the forest to sun and wind, if the once prolific mushroom crops would be seen in the future.
On my last walk events had conspired to heighten my sense of loss. It was twilight, a heavy fog had moved in, and I was alone. Overhead, two osprey circled hidden by the fog; their cries, which to me always sound plaintive at best, sounded now bereft. I stood there a long time, attempting to give a measure to my dispossession. But I gave it up and hiked out.
Copyright Mendocino Environmental Center 1996
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