FROM THE EDITOR
by Samantha Perry
Funeral for a friend: Death of nature’s
giant an opportunity for reflection
There was no obituary.
No hymns. No
one standing at an
altar sharing stories of his
majestic life. He passed
out of this world with no
fanfare. Standing proud
one minute; then taken
down by the ravages of
time and nature.
He was one of thousands
gracing southern
West Virginia’s woodlands.
A proud, majestic
oak whose 50-foot-plus
tall trunk bore evidence
of his advanced age.
Some 20 years ago,
the last time I’d hiked
through this particular
section of woods, he was
still standing — his giant
branching limbs casting
shadows and shade on
the forest floor.
I didn’t remember
him specifically, as the
large section of land is
an abundant old-growth
forest — home to squirrels,
deer, birds, bear, wild
turkeys, other wildlife
and, for the past 50 years,
a family whose kids and
adults have enjoyed hiking
and exploring all the
nooks and crannies of
this wonderful world of
nature.
Veering
off the
beaten
path while
hiking with
the dogs
on a recent
weekend,
I noticed
the oak’s
demise
from a vantage
point
on top of
the ridge.
He lay on the side of the
mountain; his large body
and branches having
crunched several smaller
trees when he crashed to
the leaf littered hillside.
It was a scene of destruction.
The crash to
the ground was obviously
quick, but who knew
what had caused its fall.
A quick bolt of lightning?
A slow death from disease
or injury?
Two quick whistles
and the dogs ceased
their roaming. They’d
been intent on following
the scent of any and all
creatures that had tread
the mountaintop in the
days before, but now they
fell into
step beside
me as we
walked
toward the
fallen steward
of our
forest.
I couldn’t
help but
wonder
if the tree
made a
sound
when it fell.
Normally,
I would have had a grin
for the appropriateness
of the age-old question
in this situation, yet the
sight of the grandiose oak
sprawled and splintered
on the ground gave me
nothing to smile about.
• • •
We reached the scene in
just a few minutes. With
each step closer the full
scope of the devastation
became more apparent.
The oak’s large frame
rested atop another tree
almost as large. At one
time they probably stood
a mere five to 10 feet
apart. Now, their lifeless
bodies were intertwined
in a juxtaposition of rotting
wood and flaking,
decaying bark.
With no wildlife biology
degree or studies
under my belt, I had no
idea whether the trees
had fallen separately or at
the same time during one
tragic act. Then I realized
it really didn’t matter.
No matter how strong
and infallible they may
appear, these giants in
our forests can be as frail
as their human neighbors.
Destroyed by a
single blow or slowly
devastated by internal or
external factors — some
within our control, some
not.
The dogs, in a constant
state of hyper-excitement,
reached the trees well
before me and began
jumping over the trunks
and through the branches
in an impromptu canine
obstacle course. Quickly,
I gave the signal for them
to go play and chase
scent.
The sight of their jubilant,
tail-wagging dance
around the trees didn’t
seem appropriate.
Taking a seat on a
moss-covered rock beside
Prerogative Magazine 5