American Forestry 



Vol. XVI 



DECEMBER, 1910 



No. 12 



LOGGING FOR PULP WOOD IN THE 

 SOUTHERN APPALACHIANS 



By GUY CARLETON HAWKINS 



DO YOU know where the paper 

 came from which is before yon? 

 Of course, it came from Wash- 

 ington, D. C. But that is neither the 

 beginning- nor the end of its life story. 

 The publisher received the paper from 

 the paper mill ; the paper mill received 

 its pulp and fiber from the pulp mill, 

 and the pulp mill took the wood from 

 the forest to make the pulp. 



From what forest? 



It came, perhaps, from the forests of 

 the Southern Appalachians, those beau- 

 tiful hills and valleys which are fast 

 becoming treeless wastes. 



Are you interested to know how the 

 forest is made into AMERICAN FOR- 

 ESTRY ? 



Let us fly by means of a mental air- 

 ship to the top of one of those long, 

 broken crests of the Blue Ridge Moun- 

 tains known as the ''Balsams." Look- 

 ing down the mountain-side, we see 

 that denuded tract described to us 

 again and again by those who would 

 protect the forest. At our back is the 

 magnificent stand of balsams and spruce 

 towering high into the air, while here 

 and there in an open space is a a twisted, 

 gnarly hardwood. 



The axmen with their saw and ax 

 are at work near by, and at their warn- 

 ing cry of "Timber !" a gigantic balsam 

 cracks, sways, and then sweeps to the 



ground with a mighty crash and is still 

 again, among the tangle of rhododen- 

 drons and fallen tree-tops. Soon the 

 tree is stripped of branches, dissected 

 into twenty-five-foot lengths, and our 

 "paper" is on its way to the mill. Even 

 now we see the slow-moving bodies of 

 the oxen come crawling up the trail. 

 With some difficulty, the driver gets the 

 team beside a log; the chain is hooked 

 on and down they go along the winding 

 trail until they come to the so-called 

 log-string. 



Let us follow and watch the string 

 of ten logs, averaging twelve inches in 

 diameter, "dogged - and - chained" to- 

 gether. We must now wait a few min- 

 utes for the four-ox team which is to 

 "snake" or "skid" the string of logs 

 out, so let us look about us. 



It is the end of June, and everywhere 

 the huge clusters of pink, red, and white 

 rhododendron blossoms are to be seen. 

 Rut that is not all. On every side is 

 the unsightly path which the axmen 

 leave behind them. Brush, dry tops, 

 and slash of every description is strewn 

 or piled about the rhododendrons, wait- 

 ing for that fatal day when the forest 

 fire in a cloud of smoke comes sweep- 

 ing up the mountain. Then, here and 

 there we see the crooked or leaning yel- 

 low birch or silver bell waiting to be 

 blackened on that same clay. 



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