ARBORICULTURE 



187 



also oaks, niadrones, horse chestnut, but- 

 tonwood and laurel. Lower still were 

 thickets of hazelnut, berry bushes and 

 vines, manzanita, California lilac, wild 

 roses, azalea and honeysuckle. Of ferns 

 there was a great variety, the Wood- 

 wardia having- fronds from eight to ten 

 feet long. 



From innumerable springs little rills 

 trickled down to join the streams and 

 swell the creeks, in whose waters could 

 be found an abundance of fish. The for- 

 est abounded in game — bear, deer and 

 smaller animals. 



Into this region settlers came and se- 

 cured land, taking up timber claims and 

 acquiring a title from the government. 

 The great commercial value of these for- 

 ests was apparent, and 'as soon as wagon 

 roads could be cut, sawmills were erected 

 at convenient places on the water courses. 



The trees that clothed the ridges near 

 what is now Redwood City were the first 

 to fall, being the most accessible, and 

 the lumber was hauled by teams to build 

 the houses of San Francisco. 



Year after year new roads were cut, 

 new mills put up, and the destruction 

 of the redwoods went on. 



A half century has witnessed the grad- 

 ual denuding of these mountains, imtil 

 now only a few sections remain whose 

 original beauty has been untouched by 

 ax or fire. The traveler who passes 

 along the roads sees only here and there 

 a remnant of the primeval forest ; but he 

 sees everywhere immense stumps, and 

 often prone columns, stately even in their 

 stripped and scorched condition. In 

 some places a thicket of young growth 

 has sprung up. presenting a surface of 

 green foliage to the eye, but in many 

 sections the traveler sees only a parched 

 and barren expanse, stumps, burned logs, 

 the dry beds of streams and a general 

 aspect of desolation. 



The building of railroad lines into 

 the rich forests has facilitated the de- 

 struction of the trees. The branch of the 

 Southern Pacific railroad, which reaches 

 the town of Boulder Creek in the Santa 

 Cruz mountains, is said to be the most 

 profitable, according to its length, of any 

 part of that system. Its cars haul away 

 from this region annually millions of feet 



of lumber in various forms, boards, 

 shingles, stakes, railroad ties, telegraph 

 poles, and cordwood. A thousand men 

 find employment in the vicinity of Boul- 

 der Creek, and the bare and dusty hill- 

 sides bear mute witness to their industry 

 in the past. As a result, this region, one 

 of the most beautiful formerly, is now 

 one of the most barren and tmattractive. 

 Springs have dried up, water courses 

 have shrunk to mere threads or disap- 

 peared entirely, and the winter rains, no 

 longer held in check by the porous soil 

 of the forests, rush away in torrents as 

 soon as they cease to fall. Even the cli- 

 mate has changed. The rainfall at Boul- 

 der Creek was formerly the heaviest in 

 the state, reaching the large amount of 

 one hundred inches annually ; it is now 

 forty inches. 



Having thus hastily sketched the his- 

 tory and general destruction of the red- 

 woods, I will relate the fortunate pres- 

 ervation of the last svirviving remnant 

 of these forest monarchs. 



THE RESCUE OF THE REDWOODS HOW WE 



SAVED THE FORESTS OF THE 

 BIG BASIN. 



In the northern part of Santa Cruz 

 county, surrounded by ridges of the coast 

 range, lies a vast natural amphitheater^ 

 known as the Big Basin. It is a heavily- 

 wooded tract of land, varied by hills and 

 valleys and traversed by clear streams, 

 which take their rise from the many 

 springs within its boundaries. These 

 streams, uniting to form creeks, find their 

 way through deep, rugged gorges, 

 and finally empty into the Pacific Ocean, 

 not many miles away. From the sea- 

 ward or western buttress— a ridge twen- 

 ty-three hundred feet high — one obtains 

 a magniiicent view of the ocean on one 

 side and the unbntlcen forest of the I'.ig 

 Basin on the other. 



The land slopes away steeply on 

 either side of this ridge, and the beholder 

 sees, by only turning his head, the foam- 

 fringed shore of the blue Pacific, ten or 

 fifteen miles away, and the tranquil, 

 dark-green depths of the redwoods. 



On the seaward side he can view some 

 traces of the presence and handiwork of 

 man ; a lighthouse here and there on a 



