Treading Where the Homesteaders Walked

Observations of the late J. Wesley White, U.S. Forest Service

Adapted by R.E. Naddy, U.S. Dept. of the Interior, Retired

Perusing through
Old field survey notes
Of many years ago…
A couple of mosquitoes
And a blackfly –
CRUSHED!
A few splotches of blood on the pages,
Probably from the insects,
But,
mostly, mine.
On that paper, too,
There is an aura
That has defied the ages
On these sweat-stained pages,
Bringing to my mind’s eye
That steamy second growth,
Tangled windfalls
And rocky places,
Muskeg swamps and beaver traces,
Where every step sent aloft
Swarms —
Of mosquitoes, blackflies, gnats no-see-ems
And other varmints that fly…
All dedicated to the reduction of one’s blood supply.
For all of that,
There were the stately forests
With mats of needles,
The spruce-cedar- tamarack swamps
With carpets of moss
Softer than the finest Persians…
The profusion of flowers and ferns,
Birds and other wildlife…
The myriad of sounds,
Even the hum of insects
fitted into the symphony.
Poor, indeed, is he or she
Who has not the opportunity
To hear this music
And cogitate its meaning —
Sifted through
The mellowness of time.

-‘93