The layer of roots and soil at the top of the bank, you can see from the picture, now overhangs the road, because the raindrops which beat against the bank have washed away all that they could reach of the unprotected earth at the bottom. How plainly we can see the network of roots. What a hard task it must be for the water to get at the soil in which these roots are growing.



We will now leave the road and, although it is still raining hard, we will walk a distance through the forest and see if there is anything more that we can learn. We are soon in the deep woods where, perhaps, no one has ever been before. Around us are trees of all ages and sizes, from little seedlings to great giants six feet through. Among them are the crumbling stumps of trees long dead. Their trunks lie on the ground, and many are so soft and rotten that we can kick them to pieces with our feet.

As we walk our feet never touch the real earth. It is always on the soft, yielding leaves and crumbling branches that we step. These leaves and branches form a thick layer completely hiding the soil. But the strangest thing is that, although the rain is still falling, we can discover no rivulets. What, then, becomes of the water? The soft, decaying vegetation on which we are walking and the rotting stumps and logs act like a great sponge. As long as this sponge can take up the falling drops, none have a chance to run away. If it rains a very long time and the sponge becomes saturated, the drops that creep away and finally unite in rivulets in the hollows do no harm to the soil, for they cannot get at it.



Long after the storm has passed, the earth underneath the trees remains wet, while the ground out in the open has become dry. A part of the water held by the decaying vegetation evaporates. Another part creeps down through the earth to the crevices in the rocks and feeds the springs.

Let us now put aside our storm clothes and journey, in imagination, far away to where it seldom rains—to that land which we call the desert. Here the bare rocks of the mountain slopes are burned brown by the hot sun. Here there is little soil and only a few little bushes that somehow manage to live. Why does not the soil gather over the rocks as it does in other places? The rocks are surely crumbling, for we can crush some of the pieces in our hands.

Once in a long time it rains in this desert. Then the drops descend furiously. The water gathers in rivulets and these turn to torrents which sweep down the slopes. They carry away the particles of sand and clay which would in time, if there were plant roots to hold them, turn to soil.

The winds also help keep the desert rocks bare and free of soil. Have you ever been in a dust storm or have you read of caravans caught in such storms in the Sahara Desert? The fierce wind picks up the particles of sand and clay from the bare earth and sweeps them along as it does the snow in winter, or it whirls them in clouds high in the air. The dust clouds are often so dense that they hide the sun and all landmarks by which the traveler can guide his way. But have any of us ever seen the winds pick up much dust from the green fields where the vegetation protects the surface?



If we turn now to a very wet country, such as that upon our northwest coast, where often nearly eight feet of rain falls in a year, we shall find the vegetation so dense that it hides both soil and rocks. Here water can do little in wearing away the soil, even upon the steepest slopes, while the wind cannot get a peep at the earth.

Does it not seem strange that where little rain falls the earth washes a great deal faster than where it rains very heavily? The reason is that the more it rains the more dense becomes the carpet of vegetation. If we wish to preserve the soil, we must preserve the natural growth on the hillsides.



CHAPTER TWELVE

WHAT HAPPENS WHERE THERE IS NO PROTECTING CARPET OF VEGETATION

Not all of the muddy streams are due to the carelessness of men. It is the business of some of the servants of Nature, as we have already learned, to tear down the mountains and fill up the hollows in the earth. It is the business of others to spread a carpet of vegetation over the surface, and wherever they have already succeeded in their work the waters run clear most of the time.

Where it is dry so much of the time that few plants can live, the destructive servants have their own way when the occasional rains come. Where there is a warm sun and frequent rains, a green carpet is spread over all the slopes. But when men destroy the carpet and take no care of the soil underneath, the raindrops are able to do as much damage as they do during the cloudbursts in the deserts.

The Colorado is one of those rivers in the basin of which few people live. Much of its journey is through a land in which there is little vegetation. Here, the waters from the melting snows upon the lofty mountains about the basin and those of the occasional heavy rains have things their own way. They are always yellow with mud. The amount of mud which this river carries has been measured. You will hardly believe me when I tell you that it amounts to sixty-one million tons every year. This is enough to cover 164 square miles one foot deep. We might call this the cream of the soil from all the slopes of the great basin of the Colorado River.

In other parts of our land, where abundant rains fall, the streams tell a different story. Before men came the water of these streams was clear throughout the greater part of the year. It was only when the rains were very heavy that the soil washed away, for the vegetation held it well. Now the gullies on the hillsides and along the roads tell us as plainly as though they could speak that our country is losing wealth here.



The soil is our most valuable possession. The people of many lands are suffering from poverty today because their forefathers did not take care of the soil as they should. In such lands the people who live on the mountain sides are poor, because the best of their soil has been washed away. Those who live in the valleys are often poor because of the sands and gravels which floods have spread over their fertile fields.

While it is raining, let us fill a bottle from some muddy stream and allow it to stand until the water settles. In the bottom will then appear a layer of fine mud, or silt as it is usually called. How much soil do you suppose the rivulets washed from my garden and from yours during the last severe storm? How much do you suppose all the rivulets which make up the rivers of your state washed from all the gardens and fields during the same storm? Make a guess and then multiply your answer by the number of storms in one year and that by fifty years, and you will get a quantity greater than you would believe possible.

This is the way Nature takes her toll for our carelessness. So quietly does she do it that often the farmer does not have any idea of what is happening. She is like a thief that comes and steals his goods while he is sleeping.



When the farmer finally awakes and begins to wonder why his crops grow smaller each year, he has already lost the cream of his soil. He must at once stop plowing the steep hillsides and leaving the ground bare for the winter rains to wash it away. To save the slopes he can either terrace them or he can sow grass or clover, which will form a sod and hold the soil. If the farmer can get peas, beans, alfalfa, or clover to grow upon his wasted lands, they will make it fertile again, for these plants have the wonderful power of taking nitrogen from the air and storing it in the soil.



More earth has been washed from the hillsides of our country during the last fifty years than during thousands of years before white people came. The farm lands have been injured, the bays have been made shallower, and many river channels have been so filled up that it is more difficult to navigate them now than it was in the early days.

The farmer, the stockman, the lumberman, and the miner has each been selfishly doing his share in the destruction of the soil. Each one has thought only of how he could make the most money in the shortest time. It has not occurred to them that they are making it difficult for their children and grandchildren to live.

In the Southern states thousands of acres are being gullied by the rains, and the soil destroyed. The floods of spring have become worse in late years, because of the destruction of the forest cover in the Appalachian Mountains. Buildings and bridges are frequently carried away, and gravel and boulders are washed over the rich bottom lands.

In the mountains of far-away Italy the soil is poor, and so are the people. They have cut down nearly all the trees and for hundreds of years the brush and grass have been eaten so closely by the sheep and goats that few roots remain to hold the soil. It does not need to rain heavily there to cause the rivers to become muddy and swollen. The soil which once covered the slopes has been carried to the bays, and now there is land where ships floated two thousand years ago.



In Spain so much of the best soil has been lost that the people now do not raise enough food to support themselves, and much has to be imported from other lands.

France is a rich country still, in spite of the cutting of so much of the forest and the careless pasturing of the mountain slopes. The people are industrious and hard working and thus make a living in spite of the loss which they are suffering.

The Montenegrins are among the bravest people of Europe, but their land is barren and they enjoy few luxuries. Their country consists largely of limestone mountains, from which they have been cutting the trees for hundreds of years. There is but little soil and that is to be found in the hollows of the rocks. This soil is so precious that every bit, be it ever so small, is carefully cultivated.

In the mountains of Palestine and Syria the people have so completely destroyed the trees and grasses which Nature once planted there that it is difficult for them to raise enough to live upon. The rivers are muddy after every rain, and even the water from the melting snows picks up some of the soil and flows away with a dirty, yellow color.

When we reach China and Korea, we find that there the people have been most severely punished for their carelessness. The mountain sides have been torn by the rains and deeply gullied. The once smooth slopes upon which grew trees and grasses are now a mass of sharp ridges and deep hollows of bare earth. The water falling upon these mountains runs off in torrents, carrying even large boulders as it does in our Western deserts. Here and there the natives have built terraces of rock to aid in holding the soil, but many parts of the country are almost wholly deserted. The waters run off the mountains so quickly that they often form vast floods which spread over the lower valleys and plains. The floods destroy the crops and drown the people.

Eastward of China there is an arm of the Pacific Ocean known as the Yellow Sea. Why do you suppose this name was given to the sea? One of the great rivers of China, the Yangste-kiang, empties into it. The river rises in the barren mountains of which we have just been speaking, and it is continually bringing so much mud and sand that a whole sea is being filled. Long before a ship comes within sight of the land the waters are seen to be of a muddy, yellow color.

In the smaller valleys of Korea the natives build dikes along the rivers to keep the mountain floods from spreading sand and gravel over their rice fields. Every year they have to make the dikes higher as the river beds fill up.

Thus we see that all over the world people are suffering because they have not obeyed the laws which Nature has made for the protection of the soil.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE USE AND CARE OF WATER

The ocean is the home of the water. The water would always remain in the ocean if it could, but the sun and air are continually at work stealing little particles away and sending them on long journeys.

The water particles are so small as they rise from the ocean that we cannot see them. By and by they crowd together and make the clouds that float across the sky. As soon as the clouds meet colder air, the little water particles rush together and thus become larger and larger until they grow so heavy that they can no longer float in the air, but must fall. Some of them fall into the ocean again, but others drop upon the land.

The raindrops that reach the land have many sorts of stories to tell before they again get back to the ocean. Some of them are at once snatched up again and are started upon another journey. The thirsty air, whether over the ocean or over the land, is ever in search of water particles.

If the air is very cold, the clouds turn to snow instead of rain. The feathery flakes fall slowly through the air and form a soft white mantle over the earth. Those that fall on lofty mountains form great banks which may not entirely melt and turn to water until late in the summer.

The raindrops that fall where the slopes are steep, where Nature has grown little vegetation, or where men have destroyed the earth cover, have little to detain them and are soon on their way back to their home. In their hasty journey they do much damage to the unprotected soil.

If the drops fall upon gentle slopes, or where there are marshes and lakes, or upon the forest with its decaying vegetation, or upon deep beds of gravel and sand, they are a long time getting back to the ocean.



We can in no way change the amount of rain that falls upon any part of the earth. We cannot call up a storm when we wish it, nor can we send it away when there has been rain enough. But there are many ways in which we can hasten or delay the return of the water to the ocean. Nature shows us some of these. The spongelike carpet underneath the forest holds the water until it has had time to soak into the earth from which it later emerges as springs. Nature forms basins on the heads of the rivers where a part of the water, instead of immediately flowing away, collects in the form of lakes. From these lakes the water runs away slowly instead of in torrential floods.



Only a few places in our country have more rain than is really needed. One of these is the region about the mouth of the Mississippi River upon the Gulf of Mexico. Another is upon the Northwest coast. Throughout the central part of the country the summer rains are sometimes too light to afford a full harvest. The rainfall upon the plains and valleys of the Southwest is so small that the only plants that can live there are those strange and curious forms that have become used to desert conditions. The only way in which these lands can be made useful to the farmer is by means of irrigation. To obtain water for irrigation we have either to go to the distant mountains and build reservoirs to collect the rains which fall there and then dig canals to carry the water to the desert valleys, or to make use of some river flowing through them, if they are fortunate enough to have such a river. Can you think of any rivers that are used in this way?



Although water sometimes seems the greatest blessing that we have, yet it may prove a curse if it is not looked after. If you give the water a chance to make gullies in your fields, you lose not only the water but the best of the soil also. If you cultivate your fields with care, most of the water will soak into the ground. If you are a wise farmer you know also that cultivation of the soil helps to hold the water, for it cannot escape through loose soil as it can through compact soil. Thus if you know how to handle both the water and the soil, you can, with only a little rain, accomplish a great deal.



We can, then, hold or conserve the water, first, by leaving the steeper slopes covered with vegetation; second, by keeping the soil loose; and, third, by building reservoirs to hold the floods. We can make use of the conserved water by carrying it in pipes or ditches to those regions where it is needed. We can get rid of too much water by draining the swamps, and building dikes to protect lowlands from river floods.

Let us now learn something of the different uses of water. Every one of our homes has its water supply. In the city the water comes through pipes from some distant reservoir. In the country the homes are so far apart that it is difficult to supply them in this way. The water in the streams is often not suitable for drinking, and if there are no springs near by it has to be obtained by some other means. Nearly everywhere in the earth under our feet water can be found by digging or boring a well. Sometimes we have to go only a few feet, at other times many hundreds of feet. This water in the earth, or ground water, is of very great importance. It enables us to build our homes where we wish. Spring water is that which finds its way to the surface through some tiny crack or fissure in the rocks. How delicious is the pure, cold water that comes out of the shady hollow in the hills! You can form in your minds a picture of the rain falling on some distant mountain, of its soaking into the ground and finally reaching the little crevices in the rocks. Along these crevices it may have crept for days and perhaps years until at last it found an outlet in some spring.

The great river flows by so quietly that we often forget in how many ways it is serving us. It serves not only those upon its banks but those who live hundreds of miles away and who, perhaps, have never seen it. It was the first and easiest means of travel used by our forefathers before there were any roads or railroads through the wilderness. It now aids in carrying on trade between different regions. If large and deep enough, it permits boats from all parts of the world to reach the very heart of our country.

Canals might be called artificial rivers. They serve an important purpose in nearly level countries where Nature has placed no navigable river. Although canal boats usually move slowly, yet they can carry goods cheaper than railroads can. The Erie Canal, in connection with the Great Lakes and the Hudson River, makes it possible for us to go all the way by water from the heart of the continent to New York City. The Erie Canal has helped make New York City the greatest city in our country. The canal across the Isthmus of Panama saves ships a journey of many thousand miles around South America.

Rivers serve us in yet another way by affording water for irrigation. A great river like the Colorado flows through regions of many different climates. Some rivers become so small in the summer that it is necessary to build great reservoirs at their headwaters in order to insure a supply when the crops need it. But in the case of the Colorado this is not necessary. The headwaters of this river are among lofty mountains, where the melting snows and summer showers make the waters of the river higher in the early summer than at any other season of the year. Thus its great delta, the Colorado Desert, has become the home of many thousands of people.

Another use which we make of rivers is by putting the water to turning mill wheels. If you will turn to your geographies, you will find that nearly all the great manufacturing cities of our country have grown up around rapids or waterfalls, where some river tumbles over a ledge of rocks.

Once we had to build our mills close to the rivers to use the water power, but this is no longer necessary. Now we build electric-power plants by the rivers and carry electric energy more than a hundred miles to any place where we wish to use it. Electricity made from the distant mountain waterfall will do any kind of work for us wherever we carry it. Thus we see that the river works for us in more than one way. After it has created power for our factories, it can be turned on to the thirsty fields, where it will serve us equally well.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

COULD WE GET ALONG WITHOUT THE TREES?

We have come to depend upon trees to supply so many of our wants that we could not possibly do without them. We can no more spare the trees than Nature can. She needs them in her work of protecting the soil on the steep slopes and of holding back the raindrops that they may keep the springs alive. She needs them to form nesting places for the birds, and she needs the dark forest so that the wild creatures may find shelter and a home.

It would be strange if we did not love the trees; for they are not only useful, but add so much to the beauty of our homes. Our early ancestors may at times have made their homes in the trees, as some of the wild people do now. They certainly lived among the trees, for the myth stories that they have given us speak of the deep, dark forests and of the mysterious people supposed to inhabit them.

We feel pity for the people who live in treeless deserts. The few articles of wood which they possess have to be brought a long distance at great cost. The Eskimos of the frozen North are more helpless than the desert people, for before the coming of explorers they had no communication with forested regions. They were not wholly without wood, however, for the ocean waves occasionally washed pieces upon their shores.

From the time when the earliest man found a club a better weapon than his bare fists, wood has been used for an ever-increasing number of purposes. Wood fires kept the early people warm. Wood was used in making their bows and spears; bark and pieces of branches served to make their rude homes.

The inner bark of the cedar and birch was used by the Indians in weaving baskets and mats. From the inner bark of the birch tree they made canoes that were so light that they could be carried from one stream to another. Where there were no birch trees, great cedars were cut or burned down and made into canoes, for traveling by water was much easier than over rocky ground or through dense forests. Some tribes of Indians learned to split the cedar logs into rude boards which they used in making their houses. The Indians also learned to boil down the sweet sap of the maple until it turned to sugar.

The eating of nuts and fruits furnished by certain kinds of trees came as natural to early men as it does to the other animals. They shared with the birds the wild fruits, and divided with the squirrels the many kinds of nuts. So highly do the Italians still value the wild chestnut that this tree, almost alone of all the forest trees that once covered their country, has been saved.

The most important uses of trees in our country are for lumber, for fuel, and for the edible fruits and nuts which they bear. There are several purposes to which logs are put without being sawed into lumber, such as for telegraph poles and for piling for the support of great buildings and for wharves. Long ago nearly all our houses were made of logs. There was then an abundance of clear, straight trees but very few sawmills. It was easy to cut the logs, peel and notch them at the ends, and then lay them up in a house of just the size that was wanted. From the logs that split easily rough boards and shingles were made, as well as chairs and tables. Blocks of wood were set in the openings cut for windows, because of the scarcity of glass.



Our forefathers had all the wood they wanted just for the cutting, and so they warmed their houses by means of fireplaces large enough to hold great logs. They made of wood every tool and household convenience for which this substance could be used. Indeed, they had more wood than they wanted. Trees covered so much of the land that the ground could not be cultivated until they had been cut away. Now we wish that we had the oak, hickory, black walnut, and other kinds of trees, that the pioneers of our country burned in order to get them out of the way, for they have become very valuable.

Now, partly because wood is becoming scarce, and partly because our large buildings must be made very strong and safe from fire, we are using other materials for them. Stone, brick, and concrete, when tied together with iron beams, are more suitable material for great buildings. Our land now contains so many people, and so many new homes are needed every year, that the lumber required for houses alone is almost more than we can believe.

The forests are now disappearing so fast that unless we use wood more carefully we may have to give up our attractive wooden homes and cheery fireplaces and live in houses of stone or concrete. In many parts of the world people have so completely destroyed the forests that they have not only to make their homes of mud bricks or stone, but have little wood left for fuel and other purposes.

We cannot mention all the purposes to which wood is put in our homes and in our industries. It would take a whole page in this book merely to make a list of them. What we ought to remember, however, is that it is not so much the amount of wood that we actually use as it is the wood that is wasted that is likely to bring us to want. Two thirds of the wood of the trees cut throughout our country is wasted in its manufacture into lumber and other objects. Besides this, as much wood is burned every year in needless forest fires as is cut by the lumberman. The waste of trees that are cut merely for their bark which is used in tanning leather is a wrong for which Nature will sometime call us to account.

In Switzerland, where the forests are given the care that we bestow upon a garden, not a particle of wood is allowed to go to waste. The branches are all picked up and saved. Even the sawdust is made use of in the manufacture of wood alcohol, which has an important use as fuel.

There are many kinds of trees the sap of which has great value. If care is used in tapping the trees, they are not greatly injured and will live for years. Sap of the maple affords delicious maple sugar. The sticky sap of the coniferous trees is obtained by making a cut in the bark. Canada balsam, thus obtained, is a clear liquid from a fir tree of the same name. It is the finest of all the turpentines and is used for many purposes in the arts. Enormous quantities of turpentine are obtained from the yellow pines. The pine forests of the Southern states supply nearly all our turpentine. From this by a process of distillation is obtained resin and spirits of turpentine.

The rubber tree found in the tropical forests has become one of the most necessary of trees. Rubber made from the sap of this tree is now used for many purposes for which we have been able to find no other material.

We sometimes forget how valuable trees are for various substances used in medicine. Our lives may depend on having such medicines within reach. Quinine made from the bark of the cinchona tree is perhaps the most important. Camphor gum is furnished by another tropical tree. The acacia supplies gum arabic. The poison, strychna, comes from a nut tree. The eucalyptus, birch, and other trees too numerous to name, supply various other medicinal products.



While we are trying to find other substances to replace wood as far as is possible, so as to keep the forests from being used up, we are requiring more and more for the manufacture of paper. The spruce forests are fast disappearing in pulp mills, from which the blocks of wood emerge as sheets of paper. Perhaps after a time we shall find something to take the place of wood in the manufacture of paper.

The one use to which we put the trees, which does not destroy or injure them in the slightest, is growing them for their fruit and nuts. We take great care of such trees, selecting the best varieties and cultivating, trimming, and spraying them in order to keep them healthy and strong. The better the care that we give them, the finer and larger become their fruits.

Trees are valuable to us in so many ways and appeal so deeply to our love of the beautiful things in Nature that we should all be interested in them. If we give the trees a chance, they will do their share toward making our lives comfortable and happy.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WHERE HAS NATURE SPREAD THE FOREST?

Our forefathers who came across the water to America found forests stretching away from the water's edge into an unknown wilderness. The settlements spread very slowly into the pathless woods, for there lurked danger from the Indians and wild animals. The Allegheny Mountains also held the settlers back for a long time.

The pioneers found the country, as far as the Ohio River and beyond, still forest covered; but by and by openings or prairies began to appear. By the time they had crossed the Great River the forests had been left behind, except for fringes of trees upon the lowlands along the streams.

From this point westward the open prairies stretched away to the horizon. Antelope, deer, and buffalo were often seen feeding on the rich grasses. The adventurous pioneers pushed on across the fertile prairies, coming at last to a drier and higher region which we have called the Great Plains. On these plains the Rocky Mountains came in sight. These mountains gradually became higher as the travelers approached, until they rose before them like a mighty wall. Here they again met vast forests, which covered all the higher slopes.

Beyond the Rocky Mountains they crossed a broad land of deserts where little rain fell. The vegetation was so scanty and springs so far apart that many of their horses and cattle died. The dreary and barren deserts were followed by another lofty range of mountains. Entering these mountains, the pioneers came upon the most magnificent forest that had yet been seen upon our continent. After traveling for some days over rugged mountains, they at last emerged from the forests upon the Great Valley of California.



Scattered over portions of the valley were oak trees, giving it the appearance of a park. When the valley had been passed the pioneers climbed the last mountain range, and from this range looked down upon the waters of the Pacific Ocean. Here they found forests again, some of the trees being of enormous size. Thus we see that the eastern part of the continent was nearly all forested, but that in the West the forests grew chiefly on the mountains, because there is not enough rainfall upon the plains and in the valleys.

The trees that make up most of the forests of our country are of two very different kinds. There is one kind that has narrow or needle-like leaves which they keep through the winter. These we commonly call narrow-leaved trees or conifers. The most important of the narrow-leaved trees are the pines, firs, spruces, and hemlock. Such trees form the forests of the greater part of the highlands of the northern and northeastern parts of our country. The pines also find a congenial home upon the lowlands of the Southern states. Trees of the second kind have broad leaves, and usually their wood is rather hard. Hence we call them broad-leaved or hardwood trees. Since most of these trees drop their leaves in winter, we often speak of them as deciduous trees. By far the larger part of the lands of the Eastern states that are now cultivated were found by the first settlers to be covered with hardwood trees. We are familiar with many of the hardwoods through their use in furniture and various household utensils and farm implements. The most important varieties are the walnut, hickory, chestnut, beech, maple, ash, oak, elm, locust, and linden.

There are not many broad-leaved trees in the forests of the West. The children of the West miss all the nut trees that the boys and girls of the East enjoy. But to make up for this lack there are some in the West that are not found in the East. The sugar pine, the pinon pine, and the digger pine afford delicious nuts which once formed an important article of food for the Indians. In the West the broad-leaved trees do not form dense forests. They are scattered among the pines on the lower mountain slopes, in the valleys, and along the streams. The most important of these trees are oaks of many kinds, soft maple, alder, cottonwood, sycamore, and laurel.

The dense forests of the Western mountains consist almost wholly of narrow-leaved trees. Among them are the pines and firs of different kinds, spruce, cedar, redwood, and "big trees." The redwoods and "big trees" are both known as sequoias; they grow to an immense size upon the mountains of California. The coniferous forests of which these trees form a part are among the most wonderful and interesting ones on the earth.

If you will take a forest map of our country and place it beside a rainfall map, you will quickly discover why the forests are found where they are. You will see that the forests are found where there is more than thirty inches of rain each year, except in the far North, where it is very cold. You can say, then, that the climate is the chief thing that determines where the forests shall grow.

If the climate is warm and the rainfall heavy, the forest vegetation is so dense and rank that you can hardly travel through it. Such forests are found in the tropical parts of the country. Where little rain falls there is scanty vegetation, as upon the deserts of the Southwest. But where it is very cold, even if there is much snow or rain, you will find no trees.



We must not forget that there is another thing that affects the growth of trees, and that is the soil. Pines like a sandy soil, while most other trees do not. Certain cedars and cypresses like swampy places where no other trees will grow. Many beautiful meadows and prairies have no trees, because the soil is not well drained.

It is very easy to understand why trees cannot grow where it is dry, but how shall we learn of the effect of cold upon them? Shall we have to take a journey of thousands of miles into the far North, until we finally come to the land called the Barren Lands or tundras, where the trees become stunted and at last disappear—a land where they cannot longer fight against the cold and live?

Fortunately such a long journey is not necessary. All we have to do is to climb a great mountain range, like the Sierra Nevadas, to pass through all the different climates which we would experience on a long journey to the arctic regions.

It is only a few miles from the hot San Joaquin Valley, at the base of the Sierras, where it is so dry that irrigation is necessary, to the summit of the range, where the winter climate is as cold as it is in the arctic regions.

In going up the mountains we first come to the foothills, where there is a little more rain than in the valley. Here we find oak trees growing. Farther up there is still more rain and we come to the pines. Soon we reach the most wonderful coniferous forest in all the world. Here not only is there a great variety of trees, but because of the favorable climate they grow to a great size. As we approach the summit of the mountains the trees become smaller, and at an elevation of about two miles they shrink to the size of little bushes and finally disappear. They can no longer stand the fierce winds and cold storms of this arctic region.



We have learned now that the trees do not grow haphazard over our country, but that the rain, the temperature, and the soil determine where they can live.

Within the heart of the forest the trees will come again if we cut them down, but upon its borders, where the air is drier, it is more difficult for them to spring up anew. If we cut them down carelessly and allow fires to burn over the surface, and the water to wash away the soil, they may never come back.

It is important, then, that we understand why trees grow in some places and not in others, in order that we may know how to take care of them.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WHAT ARE THE ENEMIES OF THE TREES?

Every living thing is engaged in a struggle for air to breathe and for something to eat. Those that make their homes on the land also have to struggle for water. The stronger rob the weaker; for, among all of them except man, might always makes right. Men are learning that unselfishness is the better way, although they do not always practice it.

In this struggle the animals have an advantage over the plants, for if food fails in one place they can move to another. Among the animals also the mother tries to protect her children; and, in the case of some,—the wolf, for example,—a number will hunt together for the common good.

It is quite different with the plants. They must grow where the seeds take root. If there is little sunlight or water or the soil is poor, they must make the best of what they have.

The plants have to struggle not only with such enemies as insects, winds, fire, and browsing animals, but with each other, for every tree is the real or possible enemy of every other tree. Brother seeds sprouting under the same parent maple struggle with each other for the food and moisture in the soil and for the best place in the sunlight. The one that gets the most of these will grow the faster and choke some of its weaker brothers.



In yonder grove of pines there are trees of all ages and sizes. The older ones have much the advantage and take a part of the food and sunlight that the smaller ones require. How the little ones stretch up and grow tall and slender in their attempt to get the sunlight! But in spite of all their efforts some of them must die.

Some kinds of trees grow faster than others. Where a number are springing up together, the slow-growing ones will stand less chance of ever becoming great trees. In this way the yellow pine sometimes chokes out the cedar, and the fir gets the advantage of the sugar pine.

The bright, warm sun is the enemy of the tree that loves the shady hillsides. The swamp is the enemy of the tree that must have loose, dry soil. The cold is the enemy of the tree that is used to a hot climate. Is it not strange that what is good for one tree is an enemy of another?

Many kinds of trees have their own particular insect enemies which attack them and no others. Some of these insects live upon the leaves, others eat the sapwood under the bark, while a few attack the roots. Certain insects burrow in and eat the heartwood. Although this does not always kill the tree, it weakens it and makes the wood unfit for use. The cedar and the hickory are among the trees injured in this manner.

The foliage of the broad-leaved trees is the delight of many insects. They sometimes eat the leaves so closely that the tree is killed; for the trees breathe through their leaves and can no more do without them than they can without their roots.

The gypsy moth, which did no great harm in its European home, was brought to this country and accidentally set free. It at once began to attack the leaves of the elm, that beautiful tree of the old New England villages. Now it is destroying other trees and, notwithstanding the fight which we have made against it, we have not yet been able to exterminate it.



The chestnut tree, which every Eastern child loves for its nuts, is now being destroyed by a fungus which may kill every one of these trees in the country.

The white-pine blister, also brought over from Europe, is now threatening all the white pines and the related trees of our country. This disease has already such a start in the East that we may not be able to stop it.

The dainty mistletoe, about which there are so many pretty Christmas legends, is a deadly enemy of many trees. The seed of this fungus is carried, by the birds or by the wind, from one tree to another. When it sprouts, tiny roots go down through the bark to the sap, on which it feeds until the tree is killed.

All our fruit trees have their deadly enemies which cause a loss of many millions of dollars every year. Among the worst of these is the San Jose scale, which was carelessly brought into the country from China.



The pear blight has destroyed whole orchards of pear trees in the Western states. The citrus canker is now threatening the orange orchards of the Southern states.

For years we have been searching over the world for new and better varieties of fruit trees. With the shipments of such trees we have brought some of the worst of the diseases that we have just mentioned. We should have all foreign trees most carefully inspected before admitting them to the country. We should also be very careful about shipping fruit or other trees from one part of our country to another. Diseases are often carried in this way into places which otherwise they could not reach.

Field mice, gophers, and rabbits eat the bark of young fruit trees and kill those which are not carefully protected. In some parts of our country the apple and peach tree borers are a serious menace to young orchards. Grasshoppers occasionally come in dense swarms and eat the leaves from every tree or plant in their path.

The valuable sugar pine of the Western mountains is not seeding itself as rapidly as it should, and we fear it will become extinct. The beautiful silver-gray squirrel loves the nuts of this pine, and it is said that he eats so many that few are left to sprout and make new trees. For this reason some people would like to make it lawful to kill all the gray squirrels that one wished. This would be too bad, for we do not believe the gray squirrel is the cause of the trouble. It is more likely that the lack of young sugar pines is due partly to its struggle in the forest with more rapidly growing trees and partly to the less frequent occurrence of forest fires to burn off the humus on the ground. We know that the seeds of certain trees find difficulty in sending their roots down through the humus to the soil beneath.



The narrow-leaved or cone-bearing trees, which are the main source of our lumber, also have other enemies. The most destructive of these are the little pine beetles which lay their eggs in the bark of the yellow pine, sugar pine, and tamarack pine. From these eggs there hatch worms which burrow under the bark until they cut off the flow of the sap. This kills the trees. The trees that are young and strong are sometimes able to pour out enough sap into the wounds to drown the insects, but many thousands of trees in the Western mountains are destroyed every year by these insects.

Wind and lightning are both enemies of the forests. Hundreds of forest fires are set every summer by thunder storms, but the rangers usually discover such fires soon enough to put them out before they have done much harm.

The pasturing of forests by stock does great injury, because of the browsing and trampling underfoot of the young trees. Sheep and goats are the worst of all the animals and should be kept out of those forests where the surface particularly needs protection and where the young trees require all the encouragement that Nature can give them in order to make a successful start in life.

We have learned something about the many enemies of the trees, but the worst one has not yet been mentioned. Can you guess what it is? This terrible enemy is man,—not savage man or Indian, but civilized man. Although man has more need for forest trees than has any other animal, he is at the same time more ruthless in his treatment of them. Man destroys more trees every year, as a result of fires which he sets and of his wasteful methods of lumbering, than all the other enemies of the trees put together.

The forest area of the world is constantly growing smaller, and we must soon learn to treat the trees with more care or they may, like many of the wild creatures, nearly disappear from parts of the earth where they are most needed.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

HOW THE FORESTS ARE WASTED

O forest home in which the songbirds dwell! The squirrel and the stag shall miss the spell Of thy cool depths when summer's sun assails, Nor more find shelter in thy shadowed vales.

* * * * *

All will be silent; echo will be dead; A field will lie where shifting shadows fled Across the ground. The mattock and the plow Will take the place of Pan and Satyr now. The timid deer, the spotted fawns at play, From thy retreats will all be driven away.

Farewell, old forest; sacred crowns, farewell! Revered in letters and in art as well; Thy place becomes the scorn of every one, Doomed now to burn beneath the summer sun. All cry out insults as they pass thee by, Upon the men who caused thee thus to die!

Farewell, old oaks that once were wont to crown Our deeds of valor and of great renown! O trees of Jupiter, Dordona's grove, How ingrate man repays thy treasure trove That first gave food that humankind might eat, And furnished shelter from the storm and heat.

PIERRE DE RONSARD, translated by BRISTOW ADAMS; American Forestry, XVI. 244

When our grandfathers came to America they found the country so covered with forests that they had to cut and burn the trees in order to obtain the ground on which to raise their crops. The Eastern states could not have been settled without clearing the land, and we cannot blame the pioneers for doing under those circumstances that which today would be very wrong.



There is now enough land so that it is no longer necessary to destroy the trees in order to raise our food supplies. The forests constitute one of the great natural resources of our country and men should not be allowed to waste them for private gain.

Although the need for more land has long passed, the habit of reckless tree cutting still continues. There are now parts of the East where none of the primeval forest remains and very little of the second growth. Firewood is expensive and many a farmer has to buy coal, who, if he and his ancestors had been careful, might have a woodlot to supply not only fuel, but lumber for his buildings.

Many of the lands once cleared were found not suited to farming and have been left to grow up to brush. If the farmer were wise he would replant some of these lands with such trees as spruce, hickory, walnut, or maple. Although his ancestors toiled early and late to get these trees out of the way, a few acres of them now would be a fortune.

There are parts of our country, particularly in the South and West, where the settlers are still cutting the trees to get them out of their way. In distant mountain valleys where there is no market for lumber, men are chopping down the great pines. They would make fine lumber, for they are tall and straight, but instead of being put to some useful end their fate is the bonfire. It makes no difference to these men that they are wasting what it has taken Nature hundreds of years to produce nor that in other parts of the country timber is scarce and expensive.

In Germany and Switzerland the forest resources are carefully looked after. As fast as the grown trees are cut from a field, young trees are planted in their places. The keeping of a certain part of the land in forest is held to be of advantage to all the people. For this reason men are not allowed to cut trees upon their own land without permission from the forest officer.

Many years ago, when lumbering became an important industry and the mills began to turn out immense quantities of boards and beams of every sort needed by the growing population of our new country, it was believed that the supply would never be used up. Only the best and clearest logs were sawed into lumber, and a large part of each tree was left on the ground to rot or to feed the first fire that occurred. Now lumber is scarce and expensive; and the poorer grades also are in much demand.

Have you ever seen the giant sugar pines on the slopes of the Western mountains? Next to the sequoias they are the largest of our American trees. A single tree has furnished lumber enough for a house. Sugar pine has now become so valuable that it is used only for such purposes as window sash, doors, and similar articles. We have taken no care of these wonderful trees until recently, but have allowed them to be cut and wasted in the most reckless fashion.

If you could go through the sugar-pine forests, you would find hundreds and even thousands of these mighty trees lying on the ground rotting. This is the work of the shake or shingle maker. He has been as thoughtless in his cutting of these giants which have been hundreds of years growing as is the farmer of the stalks of grain that springs up and ripens its seed in one season. The shingle maker must have material which splits well. He hunts for the straightest and cleanest trees. At most he does not use over fifty feet of the trunk, and if the tree does not split to suit him, then all, or nearly all, of the tree is left to rot.



The waste of the lumberman is not so great, but it is enough to open our eyes to one of the reasons for the rapid disappearance of our forests. On the average only about one third of the wood of every tree cut is actually used. The rest is lost in the logging operations and during the various processes through which it passes before it reaches our hands.

In addition to the waste of the trees actually cut, there is the loss of the young trees due to careless logging. Too often the lumbermen do not care in what condition the logs leave the forest. They want only the trees now fit for lumber, and they want to get them in the easiest way possible.

Instead of going through the forest and picking out only the ripe or mature trees and leaving the rest for a later cutting, the lumbermen usually take everything that has any present worth. Trees that are less valuable for lumber, such as the firs, are used for skidways and bridges, and when no longer needed for these purposes are left on the ground. No care is taken to see that the great trees fall with the least possible damage to the young growth. Upon the preservation of the young trees, which almost everywhere occupy the open spaces between the large ones, rests our hope of a future forest.

When the work of lumbering in any particular region is finished, the sight is such as must make Nature weep, for it almost brings tears to our eyes. The young trees are broken and crushed to the ground, branches and fragments of the trunks lie scattered about, while above the ruin rise those trees not considered worth cutting. The once beautiful and majestic forest is now ready for fire. Some passer-by may drop a lighted match or cigarette, and you can easily form a picture in your mind of what happens.



In the countries of Europe lumbermen are very careful; not a particle of the cut tree goes to waste. The logs are sawed without removing what we call "slabs." The sawdust is saved and used in the manufacture of wood alcohol. If we saved all the present waste in the logging and milling of our pines, we could make all the turpentine needed in our country. If we saved what is now wasted of the poplar and spruce, we should have material enough to make all the paper we use.

There are still large and valuable forests in the Southern Appalachian Mountains, in the Rocky Mountains, the Sierra Nevada-Cascade Range, and the Coast Ranges. These regions were settled later than the Eastern states, and parts of them are yet remote from markets.

Our wise lumbermen are beginning to understand that it is better to cut over the forest carefully, so that by and by there will be another crop. Nature is doing all she can to keep up the supply of trees, and, if we give her half a chance, there will be timber enough both for us and for those that come after us. The forest crop is like any other crop, except that it cannot be cut every year.

Every one should understand that he has an interest in the forest. Although he may not own a foot of land, yet his prosperity depends in part on how the forests are managed.

If the forests are not taken care of, there will sometime be a wood famine. If the mountain slopes are stripped of their trees, the streams will no longer run clear and the low streams in summer will lead to a water famine, which in turn might easily cause a bread famine.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HOW THE FORESTS SUFFER FROM FIRES

He who wantonly kills a tree, All in a night of God-sent dream, He shall travel a desert waste Of pitiless glare, and never a stream, Nor a blade of grass, nor an inch of shade— All in a wilderness he has made. O, forlorn without trees!

He who tenderly saves a tree, All in a night of God-sent dream, He shall list to a hermit thrush Deep in the forest by mountain stream, With friendly branches that lead and shade, All in a woodland that he has made. O, the peace of the trees!

He who passionately loves a tree, Growth and power shall understand; Everywhere he shall find a friend. Listen! They greet him from every land, English Oak and the Ash and Thorn, Silvery Olive, and Cypress tall, Spreading Willow, and gnarled old Pine, Flowering branches by orchard wall— Sunshine, shadow, and sweetness of glade— All in a Paradise he has made. O, the joy of the trees!

The Dryad's Message

Have you ever seen a forest fire? It is a terrible sight to see the flames sweep up a mountain side. They run along the ground licking up the leaves and dead branches. They leap from tree to tree, and then with a roar the sheet of flame goes to the top of a tall pine. The air is like the breath from an oven and is filled with sparks and with suffocating smoke. The birds and animals flee away in every direction.



It is no wonder that those whose homes are in the forest gather quickly to fight the fire, for if they cannot control it, they may lose everything that they possess. If there is a wind blowing, the fire will probably sweep over many miles of country. At night, though, when the air becomes cooler and more quiet, the men can get the advantage of it.

You can understand, of course, that it is impossible to use water against such a fire, for water is not to be had throughout most parts of the forests. Instead of using water, the men fight fire with fire. Taking shovels, hoes, and rakes to a suitable place some distance ahead of the fire, they rake away the dead litter on the ground, making a broad, clean path through the forest. Then they set "back-fires" along that side of this clean path which lies toward the coming fire. These back-fires burn slowly toward the main fire, and when they meet both must die out for lack of fuel.

For many years forest fires have caused as much damage as the lumbermen; but now most of the forests are patrolled by rangers during the summer, and there are fewer serious fires.

How do the fires start in the forest? It is supposed that long ago the Indians set many fires to keep the woods open for their hunting. Lightning has always been a frequent cause of forest fires. As many as a dozen fires are known to have started during a single thunderstorm. But such fires are not as serious as they once were, because the rangers are on the watch for them and put them out before they get well started.



Aside from those due to lightning, most forest fires are now either set purposely or come from engine sparks or from somebody's carelessness. Many fires are set purposely by stockmen who think by this means to clear away the brush and thus obtain better feed for their cattle and sheep. These men often care nothing for the forests or for the preservation of the summer water flow. They would, indeed, be pleased to see all the forests burned away if by that means they could increase their feed. If you could travel through some of the mountainous portions of the Southwest, you would see how much harm has been done in this way to the trees, the streams, and the soil.

It is a hot summer day and two men are riding along a mountain road. One of them thoughtlessly throws away a lighted cigarette, which falls upon some dry pine needles. In a few moments the pine needles are ablaze. The fire spreads with incredible rapidity and a great column of smoke rises above the treetops. Before any one can reach it, the fire is sweeping up the mountain side, and it may not be stopped before it has destroyed thousands of acres of valuable timber. All this terrible loss is due to one careless man who, in the first place, should not have been smoking cigarettes, and in the second place should have known better than to throw a spark into the forest powder magazine.

Some campers, enjoying the summer in the mountains, go away leaving their fire burning. By and by a stick burns outward until the fire reaches the leaves, or a gust of wind comes along and carries a spark to them. In the hot sun the leaves and needles are almost as easy to ignite as powder, and in a few moments another fire is making headway into the surrounding forest.

A farmer clearing land thinks he can get rid of the brush and young trees more easily by burning. But the undergrowth is drier than he thought, and, the wind coming up unexpectedly, the fire is soon beyond his control. It may destroy his own fences and buildings and, sweeping on, ruin those of his neighbors also.



Few people have perished from fires in the West, for there the forest regions are generally thinly inhabited, but in some of the Eastern and Northern states there have been terrible fires that have destroyed whole villages together with their inhabitants.

In many mountain regions of our country there are large areas now covered with useless brush where there were once valuable forests. In regions where the lumbermen have not utterly destroyed the forests, but have left some seed trees, the forests will come back again, but in these large burned areas conditions are not favorable. The destruction of the humus as well as the trees has been so complete that the seeding of a new forest is slow work. It may be hundreds of years before the trees will spread over and again take possession of the waste land.

A single fire often destroys more timber than would be destroyed by a whole camp of loggers working for years. In the Northwest there are many sad and desolate pictures of the destruction caused by forest fires. We may travel for miles through forests of tall, dead stubs, the remains of once noble trees. Where they have fallen the trunks lie piled many feet high and trails had to be cut through an almost solid mass of timber.

Here is wood enough to supply thousands of people with pleasant winter fires. But there are, alas, no people living near these vast woodpiles and often no road to them. The logs must lie there and rot.

Now let us see if we can state the chief reasons why we should be exceedingly careful about setting fires in the woods:

1. Fires destroy an enormous amount of valuable timber every year.

2. Between fires and lumbermen our forests are disappearing faster than they are growing.

3. Fires destroy the young trees, and if they happen often enough will keep them from growing up to replace the mature trees.

4. Fires do not permanently help the cattle ranges, but injure them by burning the humus and grass seeds.

5. Fires leave the ground bare, so that it will dry out quickly.

6. Fires leave the soil unprotected, so that it will wash away quickly.

7. Fires destroy property and endanger lives.



CHAPTER NINETEEN

EVILS THAT FOLLOW THE DESTRUCTION OF THE FORESTS

We have already learned something about the poverty of the people in those lands where the forests have been destroyed. This poverty is due not so much to lack of wood for fuel and other purposes, but to a whole series of troubles which the removal of the forests has brought upon them.

The burning of the humus, when a fire sweeps the forest, is the next greatest loss to that of the timber itself. Where there has been no fire, the ground under the trees is covered with decaying leaves and stems which are slowly mixing with the soil and becoming a part of it. The more there is of this humus in the soil, the more thriftily plants will grow.

Many people purposely burn over their pasture lands in the fall, believing that this will make the grass better the following year. They should know that every time this is done the soil is made poorer, and that it kills the seeds lying on the ground ready to sprout when the warm spring days come. Instead of a better pasture there is more likely to be a crop of almost worthless weeds. The ground is full of worthless seeds which are always ready to take the place of the grasses when they have a chance.

Before the fire came, the roots of trees, bushes, and grasses kept the earth from washing; and the humus helped to hold the rainwater from running away rapidly, so that more of it had time to soak into the ground. How well this is shown on yonder hills which were once covered with brush. A fire swept over these hills and burned every living thing. What a barren appearance they presented after the heavy winter storms! The slopes were completely covered with little furrows and gullies where the rainwater had done its work. It will be a long time before vegetation will again gain a foothold there and stop the washing of the earth.

When a fire occurs in the dense forests of the Cascade Range, all the trees are killed and the thick layer of decaying vegetation underneath is burned. The spruce, which is one of the most important lumber trees of this region, does not at once spring up again. Its seeds may be scattered there, but the soil is not now in a condition to nourish them. In its place springs up the tamarack pine, which, because it can grow in poor soil, has the whole burned area to itself.

If we should return to the same place perhaps one hundred years after the fire, we should find that the tamarack pines had formed a thick forest. The lumbermen have little use for the tamarack and so have passed it by. In looking carefully through the tamarack forest, we find that other trees are now springing up. They are already struggling for the food, the moisture, and the sunlight which the tamaracks are making use of.

During the many years that have passed since the fire swept this region, decaying vegetation has been slowly accumulating and forming humus again. Now at last the seeds of the spruce find the soil rich enough again to sprout and grow. Here and there are thrifty young trees which will in a few years grow up and choke out the tamarack. Thus the tamarack, though of so little value itself, has done a great work in preparing the soil for a new growth of the valuable spruce.

Upon the drier slopes of the Western mountains shrubs, such as the manzanita and chaparral, spring up and cover the surface after a forest fire. Nature does not seem to want the surface left bare and usually has something at hand, even though it be nothing better than brush, with which to clothe it again. As the years pass humus begins to collect upon the ground and finally restores it to much the same condition it had before the fire. Now, if by any means seeds can reach such places, scattering trees will first spring up in favored spots and, after a time, the trees will become thick enough and large enough to shade the ground and the brush will be killed out.



The cutting of the forests, especially from the steeper mountain slopes, has in many parts of the world changed water, one of Nature's most valuable gifts, into an agent of destruction. Throughout the Eastern and Southern states the floods are higher in spring and lower in summer than they used to be, because of the removal of so large a part of the forests that once covered this whole region.

In the West it is even more necessary that the forest cover be disturbed as little as possible. One reason is that the greater part of the forests are found upon the lofty mountains in which the streams rise. If we deforest these steep slopes, water is going to injure them much more than it would the gentler slopes of the lower lands, if they had been deforested. Another reason is that since little rain falls in the summer in this region, we must do nothing to lessen the summer flow of the streams, which is so much needed for irrigation.



The more water that can be held back in the mountains of the West for summer use, the more prosperous the farmers are. There is nothing that helps to hold the water better than the forests. They help to equalize the flow of the streams so that the floods are not so high in the spring nor the water so low in the summer as they would be if there were no forests.

One of the first questions asked by a man who is thinking of buying a farm is about the water supply. He wants to know whether there are wells, springs, or living streams on the place. Almost everything depends upon the water supply. If there is an abundance, the farmer is likely to be prosperous. When he is prosperous all the rest of us are prosperous, no matter what our business is.

Are you not ready now to say that the Swiss are right in not permitting tree cutting upon any land except under the supervision of a forester? The careless removal of the forests from the mountain slopes may affect the farmer in the valley fifty miles away. Do you not think that this farmer is very much interested in the management of the forest, although he does not own a foot of it?

Trouble always follows the destruction of the forests on the headwaters of the streams.



CHAPTER TWENTY

HOW OUR GOVERNMENT IS HELPING TO SAVE THE FORESTS

As long as the forest shall live, The streams shall flow onward, still singing Sweet songs of the woodland, and bringing The bright, living waters that give New life to all mortals who thirst. But the races of men shall be cursed.

Yea, the hour of destruction shall come To the children of men in that day When the forest shall pass away; When the low woodland voices are dumb; And death's devastation and dearth Shall be spread o'er the face of the earth.

Avenging the death of the wood, The turbulent streams shall outpour Their vials of wrath, and no more Shall their banks hold back the high flood, Which shall rush o'er the harvests of men; As swiftly receding again.

Lo! after the flood shall be dearth, And the rain no longer shall fall On the parching fields; and a pall, As of ashes, shall cover the earth; And dust-clouds shall darken the sky; And the deep water wells shall be dry.

And the rivers shall sink in the ground, And every man cover his mouth From the thickening dust, in that drouth; Fierce famine shall come; and no sound Shall be borne on the desolate air. But a murmur of death and despair.

ALEXANDER BLAIR THAW, The Passing of the Forest; in Century Magazine, June, 1907

For many years it was thought the forests were inexhaustible and needed no special care. The national government encouraged people to acquire forest land and practically gave away 160 acres to every one who would build a cabin upon the land and live there for a short time.

Suddenly some of the wise people among us awoke to a realization of what was going on. They discovered that the forests were going very fast and that soon we should have none if something were not done. Between the fires that swept them every year and the wasteful lumbering, the forests were in a fair way to leave us as they had the wasteful and careless peoples of other parts of the world.

How fortunate it is that some of us did look ahead before it was too late; for, although the Eastern forests have largely disappeared, there still remain millions of acres of government-owned forests in the West. These forests have now been withdrawn from sale and are to be held for the use and benefit of all. They are not to be permitted to pass into the hands of a few, to be cut and sold for private gain.

Our government is acting like a wise father who is interested in the welfare of his children, and who understands the need of taking care of their treasures until they are wise enough to manage them for themselves.

We are all concerned in many ways in the welfare of the forests. Whether we own any forest land or not, we are affected by the way in which the trees are managed. Because we are all dependent more or less upon the forests, they should be regarded as the property of us all, just as the air and water are. But because some of us do not yet know how, or do not care, to protect them, it is best that the government should do so for us.



It may be that you live in a brick, or stone house and burn coal in your stoves. You think that it makes no difference to you whether or not there are any forests. But stop and think a moment. Are you sure that you are really independent of them? How many things do you use every day that are made of wood? The list is surely a long one. If wood is rare and expensive, the articles which are made of it add to your cost of living and allow you less money for other things.

Let us suppose for a moment that you have no use for wood in any form. Will this take away all interest that you may have in the forests? In any event you are dependent upon the fertility of your fields for the food that you require. Now, if there is a lumber company stripping the mountains at the head of the river upon which your home is situated, and as a result of clearing the timber from the slopes the floods become worse, your garden is buried beneath gravel and sand, and your orchard washed away, will you not think it does make a difference to you in what way the forests are treated?

The timbered lands which the government is holding and caring for are known as National Forests. About two thirds of the forests yet remaining in the West are included in them. These lands are mostly mountainous and not suited to agriculture.

In the East the government has no lands except those which it buys. Because of the great damage which is being done to the streams and valleys of the Appalachian Mountains by careless lumbering, a great tract of land is being acquired by purchase. This is called the Appalachian Forest. The timber in this region will be carefully cut and those areas from which it has been stripped will be replanted.

In the White Mountains of New Hampshire, with Mt. Washington as the center, is a remnant of a once beautiful forest, which has been acquired by the government. This is known as the White Mountain Forest. It will be enlarged as the years pass and carefully guarded. It will serve for all time as a beautiful pleasure and camping ground.

It is not the government's plan that the National Forests shall remain unused, but they are to be used wisely, so as to be of the greatest permanent good to the greatest number of people. The men who have been placed in charge of these lands are called "forest rangers," and their duties are of many kinds.

The rangers supervise the sale and cutting of the mature or ripe trees as they are needed for lumber, mining timbers, or posts. They see that the waste parts of the cut trees are piled so as to lessen the danger from chance fires.

During the long summers the forests become as dry as tinder and the loss from fire amounts to millions of dollars every year. It is the chief duty of the rangers at this time to patrol the roads and trails leading through the forests and keep a sharp lookout for fires.

Stations have been established upon high points from which there is a view over a wide extent of country. In each of these stations there is a man constantly on watch for columns of smoke which indicate the beginning of a forest fire. When smoke is seen a message is telephoned to the ranger station nearest the fire, and from this station men are sent as quickly as possible with the object of putting out the fire before it spreads beyond the power of control. The forests are now watched so carefully that hundreds of fires are thus stopped before there has been any serious loss of timber.

- STOP Forest Fires They are a Curse to the People of Pennsylvania FOREST Existing Forests FIRES Possibility of Future Forests DESTROY Possibility of Labor Beauty of a Region Comfort Homes Lives Prosperity Protected Forests Increase in Value They Furnish Labor, Promote Industry, Afford Recreation and Sport, Make a Region Beautiful, Make Home Safe and Comfortable, Make Life Worth Living, and a Prosperous State Inhabited by a Contented and Industrious People. Which Would You Rather Have FOREST FIRES } { GREEN FORESTS FLOODS } { PURE WATER DISEASE } OR { HEALTH DESTRUCTION } { THRIVING INDUSTRIES DEVASTATION } { PROSPERITY For Information Respecting Pennsylvania Forests and Tree Planting, write to COMMISSIONER OF FORESTRY, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania -





In convenient places the rangers store boxes of tools, which include axes, picks, shovels, and rakes to be used in fighting any near-by fire. They also have at hand provisions and camp outfits, so as to be able to live anywhere in the woods.

In some parts where there is a great deal of small timber and brush, "fire lines" are cut along the ridges where it is easiest to stop a fire, should one occur. Our forests are so vast that it is not possible to remove the dead wood as is done in Europe and thus lessen the danger of fire.

The forest rangers also wage a warfare against insect pests. In regions where the bark beetles carry on their destructive work among the pines, the rangers sometimes cut down and burn thousands of trees. Another duty of the rangers is that of replanting burned or logged-off areas. In this way many thousands of acres which would otherwise remain waste land for years, not being suitable for agriculture, are made in a short time to produce a new forest.

A limited number of cattle and sheep are allowed in those forests which can be pastured without doing injury to the young trees or affecting the flow of the streams. The rangers have charge of this work and collect the rent. A part of the money derived from the sale of timber and for pasturage rights is expended in the improvement of the roads and trails in the forests and in making the forests more safe from fire.



The National Forests are open to all for pleasure and recreation, but under strict regulations about the cutting of trees and the care of camp fires. Violators of these rules are severely punished. Visitors to the forests are expected to take care in the selection of places for their camp fires so that there will be no danger of the fire spreading. When the camp is left, the fire must be put out with water or covered with earth.

Many states have forest services of their own, and some have conservation commissions. It is the business of these organizations to look after various natural resources, including the forests, water, soil, minerals, and wild game. All forest rangers as well as state fire wardens are authorized to aid in the enforcement of the game laws.

We should assist the foresters and wardens in every way possible. Most of these men love the woods, the birds, and the animals. They are doing their best to protect the forest and its wild life for the good and happiness of us all.



CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

OUR FOREST PLAYGROUNDS

What does he plant who plants a tree? He plants the friend of sun and sky; He plants the flag of breezes free; The shaft of beauty, towering high; He plants a home to heaven anigh For song and mother-croon of bird In hushed and happy twilight heard— The treble of heaven's harmony— These things he plants who plants a tree.

What does he plant who plants a tree? He plants cool shade and tender rain, And seed and bud of days to be, And years that fade and flush again; He plants the glory of the plain; He plants the forest's heritage; The harvest of a coming age; The joy that unborn eyes shall see— These things he plants who plants a tree.

What does he plant who plants a tree? He plants, in sap and leaf and wood, In love of home and loyalty And far-cast thought of civic good— His blessing on the neighborhood Who in the hollow of His hand Holds all the growth of all our land— A nation's growth from sea to sea Stirs in his heart who plants a tree.

H. C. BUNNER, The Heart of the Tree; in Century Magazine, April, 1893

Our National Parks and Forests form the grandest summer playgrounds that any people have ever had. The National Forests, we have learned, were set aside for the direct purpose of preserving the timber supply and regulating the flow of the mountain streams. The National Parks were created for the purpose of preserving for all time the most beautiful and attractive scenic features of our country. Among the most important of these are the Yellowstone, Grand Canon, Yosemite, Rainier, and Crater Lake parks. They include many thousands of square miles of forested mountains, cliffs, lakes, waterfalls, and rivers, which are open to all of us with no restrictions except that we do not injure them.

How delightful it is to have these wild and picturesque parts of our country left unspoiled and just as Nature made them, and to be able to wander through them at will! In the parks we can become acquainted with the flowers, trees, birds, and animals as they were before the country was discovered and settled by white men. Here the wild creatures are protected from the hunters. The deer no longer fear the sight of men, and the mother grouse can raise her brood in safety from them.

When summer comes we feel a strange and mysterious longing to get out of doors and live in the forests with the wild creatures. The parks offer just the opportunity to satisfy this longing, for in them we can get away from the worries and perplexities of our everyday life.

We feel the "call of the wild," perhaps, because long ago our savage ancestors dwelt in the forests among the hills. They were a part of Nature and lived much as the animals do in caves in the hillsides, or in homes of the rudest sort made of the bark of trees or the skins of animals.

Our ancestors spent nearly all of their time out of doors in the pure, fresh air. Their eyes and ears were trained to every sign of the forest, for upon the sharpness of their senses their very lives depended.



We have lived in houses so long, where the air is often close and impure and where we have no need of sharp senses for protection, that we have lost some of the strength and sturdy self-reliance of our wild ancestors.

We have become partly dulled to the beauty out of doors, because we have been so constantly employed by the business of making a living. But the forest playgrounds are calling us to return for a little time each year to the wilds that were once our home, and to renew our acquaintance with the trees, the streams and the rocks, and with the wild creatures that live among them. To be able to make our beds on the leaves under the trees, and to build a fire of sticks and cook our own food, seems quite natural and like old and familiar times.

The stories and legends that have come down to us about the forests and the imaginary people who lived in them were believed to be true by the people of long ago. The deep, dark woods once covered nearly all Europe where our ancestors lived. To be lost in the woods was to be in danger of meeting the strange and mysterious people who were thought to live in their depths. Among these beings, some of whom were good and others bad, were fairies, nymphs, gnomes, and ogres. When people ceased to believe so much in these stories, they began to lose their fear of the woods. Among some of these people there grew up a love and fascination for the trees which they believed were the dwelling places of spirits or divinities.

If in our great forest playgrounds we can lead this out-of-door life for a few weeks each year, it will make us healthier, stronger, and happier. We no longer fear any mysterious creatures in the woods or the forces of Nature as shown in the lightning, the winds, and the waterfalls; but year by year we are finding more to love and admire in the wild scenery of the woods and mountains and in their animal and plant inhabitants.

The wild woods call many of us on jaunts and picnics when, if it were not for them, we should stay at home shut up in stuffy rooms. In time may not the love of the forest wilds come back to us all? May not the time come when each one of us shall be able to look at a beautiful tree and not think only of how much lumber it would make? May not the time come when we may hear the grouse drumming its call and not feel the desire to kill and eat it?

If the time does come in which we think as much of our beautiful mountains as the people of Europe do of the Alps, we shall then guard them with far more jealous care than we do today. In spite of the fact that the Alps are wet and cold and that no one thinks of sleeping out of doors there, yet the people of Europe love their mountains almost passionately.

Our mountains are much more attractive summer playgrounds than the Alps. We can wander at will over a far greater number of untrodden ways than Europeans can in the Alps. We can make our beds under the trees with rarely a thought of the weather. The air is always balmy and the skies are almost always blue.



CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THE WILD FLOWERS

How eagerly we have looked forward to the coming of spring, and now it is here! The sun is shining brighter and warmer each day. The birds are returning from their winter home in the South. The buds on the trees are swelling and, in the warm nooks, some of the wild flowers have already opened their delicate petals. Who will find the first spring beauty in the Eastern woods? Who will find the first of the purple trilliums that open their dark flowers in the shady groves, or the golden poppies on the warm hillsides of the West?

The spring air affects us as it does the plants and wild creatures. We long to get away from school, and taking our lunches, to spend the delightful days wandering through the fields and woods. There is no place like the open country when all Nature is waking. We feel like running and frisking as the young lambs do.

Can it be wrong to gather all that we wish of the beautiful flowers with which the earth is carpeted? Has not Nature grown them in her great garden in such abundance that all we pick will make no difference to her? Let us go with the children on their rambles after flowers and learn if Nature does take any account of their innocent raids on her treasures.

Here is a party of children chasing across the fields. Each one is searching for the flowers that have bloomed since last they were out, and each is trying to get more than his companions. The children have learned that some kinds of flowers grow in the woods, others in the marshy places, and still others on the dry hillsides. They know where to go for each kind, and not a spot escapes their sharp search.

Here they find a patch of violets, and all are quickly picked. There are some baby-blue-eyes, and yonder dry field is brilliant with the colors of many others. In the gathering of the flowers some of them are pulled up by the roots, but the children do not think of the harm this does. They wander on and on until many have more in their hands than they can carry. Some of those picked first are already wilted, and, to make their burdens lighter, the children throw these away. At last a tired but happy band turns toward home.



What will be done with all the flowers that have been picked? In each home the vases are filled and the tables decorated. There is no room for all of them and some are thrown out. These flowers, once so fresh and bright as they nodded in the breeze, now lie crushed and wilted on the ground.

Another spring returns and the children are out again looking in the familiar places for the flowers they know so well. But there seems to be something wrong, for there are not so many as there used to be. The children have to go farther and search more carefully to get their arms full.

Still a third spring comes and the children are just as ready for the happy excursions and just as anxious to get the flowers. They hunt the fields over, but in the places where the flowers used to be so thick there are only a few scattering ones. They cannot understand what is wrong, but Nature could tell them if they would ask her. The year before she was short of seed, but this year it is much worse, for she had hardly any to plant in her garden. She is short of bulbs also, and of many other plants that grow from year to year, for the children carelessly pulled these up.