Canadian Forestrij Journal, April, 1917 



1083 





Going Camping? 



It was early morning on Lake 

 Golden. The teapot sputtered over 

 the coals, and bacon flavors filtered 

 gratefully to the nostrils. The Old 

 Veteran squatted himself comfort- 

 ably on a granite boulder and nodded 

 toward the fire. "Boys," he said, 

 "there don't look to be anything 

 dangerous in a little bunch of coals, 

 does there?" 



"Not this side of a powder fac- 

 tory," chipped in the Youngster. 



The Old Veteran tapped his pipe 

 bowl significantly: "Some day we're 

 going to have an argument about 

 which is the trickiest spot to trifle 

 with fire — a powder factory or a for- 

 est, and I think the forest will come 

 first. One advantage about the pow- 

 der factory is that you know the 

 worst right off. But in the forest 

 you may walk away for days and have 

 the fire of your own making over- 

 take you." 



"That doesn't sound reasonable," 

 the Youngster broke in. 



"And it won't," agreed the Vet- 

 eran, "until some time you start a 

 camp fire in a bog or on pine needles 

 and after a week's absence come 

 face to face with your own fire in 

 the shape of a blackened township. 

 There's lots of surprises in store for 

 you, my lad. I have known camp 

 fires to burrow into a boggy soil, 

 although doused with many pails of 

 water, and remain there for two 

 weeks, travelling underground until 

 they came in contact with the dry 

 duff of a fine old pinery, then to dart 

 upward and turn hundreds of acres 

 into a roaring furnace. The only 

 safe way is never to take chances 

 with a camp fire, never build one 

 except on rocks or gravel and never 

 go away until it is dead out I have 

 followed that rule now for twenty 

 years." 



"You certainly make the camp fire 

 responsible for a lot of damage." 



"Can't exaggerate it, because I 

 have seen the proofs with my own 

 eyes. I have crossed Canada with 

 parties of geologists and civil en- 

 gineers and forest engineers and seen 

 so many thousands of acres lying 

 charred and useless, so many rivers 

 .and streams dried up from lack of 

 a tree life, so many beautiful camp- 

 ing and fishing spots spoiled for all 

 time, that I said to myself, 'Never 

 you become responsible for this sort 

 of crime.' And I believe I have lived 

 up to it." 



"But smokingV said the Youngster 

 "Suppose that I" 



"Suppose that you threw down a 

 lighted cigarette or a burning match 

 alongside the trail, or emptied hot 

 pipe ashes, I should feel hke giving 

 you a very good licking. Lighted 

 tobacco and matches are just camp- 

 fires in concentrated form. They 

 all have the possibilities of another 

 'Porcupine fire horror,' and for a man 

 to carelessly toss away the beginnings 

 of a conflagration is to brand him- 

 self an amateur woodsman and an 

 enemy to society." 



By this time we had made away 

 with the bacon and were glorying 

 in the nectar of campfire tea. The 

 Youngster, of course, had finished 

 first, and was lending a hand at strik- 

 ing camp. 



Up from the shore came the guide, 

 lugging two pails of water. He 

 emptied them on the small bed of 

 coals and returned for a further sup- 

 ply. Not until the fourth pail had 

 immersed the blackened remnants of 

 the fire did he look contented. 



"I see you take no chances," re- 

 marked the Veteran. 



"I too learned my lesson," answer- 

 ed the guide. "If the forests are 

 not kept green, there's no hunting 

 and fishing, and no tourists — and the 

 guide's job disappears. This is only 

 self-defence." — (Reprinted from "A 

 Matter of Opinion," published by 

 Canadian Forestry Association.) 



