FORESTRY DEPARTMENT. 



EDITED BY DR. B. E. FERNOW, 



Director of the New York School of Forestry , Cornell University, assisted by Dr. John N. Gifford, of same 



institution. 



TIMBER DESTRUCTION. 



C. E. RUSK. 



Ill 



ta 



Most people seem woefully apathetic in 

 regard to timber destruction in the Pacific 

 Northwest. Year after year the magnifi- 

 cent forests of Oregon and Washington 

 go up in smoke. We are dazzled by the 

 wealth of the Klondike, yet the value of 

 the timber destroyed on the coast this 

 year, by fires alone, will not fall far short 

 of the output of the Northern El Dorado. 



Last year the fires in the Cascades were 

 frightful, and the devastation will no doubt 

 be as great this season. Every summer 

 seems to increase rather than diminish it. 

 It is but a matter of time when the great 

 forests, which are now our pride, will be 

 a memory, and the Cascade range but a 

 desolate, barren chain of treeless ridges. 

 Then will the cold mountain streams run 

 dry, and the valleys below parch in the 

 burning sun of summer, or be torn by the 

 unrestrained floods of spring. 



In August, 1897, from the summit of 

 Mt. Adams, I saw at least 12 big fires 

 raging at the same time. Although many 

 miles away, some of them appeared close 

 at hand, and flames could be distinctly 

 seen leaping from tree to tree and high in 

 air. From one fire, directly North of the 

 mountain, a solid column of black smoke 

 rose, straight into the sky, to a height 

 much greater than the top of the big peak. 

 Picture a mass of inky smoke shooting 

 up nearly 3 miles, and you can, perhaps, 

 form some idea of the conflagration that 

 engendered it. Such heat could have 

 meant nothing less than the complete ruin 

 of a good part of the dense forest that 

 skirted the North base of Mt. Adams. 

 And when we consider that scores of such 

 fires rage every summer in the Pacific 

 Northwest we can faintly realize the loss 

 involved. . 



There are countless hills in the Cascades 

 once clothed by luxuriant trees that now 

 stand bare of foliage, with only here and 

 there a black stump, or the tall, white 

 ghost of some stately fir, as mute re- 

 minder of past beauty. So fierce is the 

 heat of a forest fire that often a few min- 

 utes will suffice to sweep a whole moun- 



in side. 



And no one seems to care! Year after 

 year the destruction goes on, with scarce- 

 ly a hand stretched out to check it, and 

 with hardly a voice raised in protest. Per- 



65 



haps when too late we may awake to a 

 realization of the value of our forests. 



And who, it may be asked, is the cause 

 of all this devastation? 



I answer, prospectors, hunters, stock- 

 men and sightseers. All must bear a share 

 of the blame. Probably not x /z of the 

 timber fires are started by accident. A 

 majority of them are set deliberately, or, 

 we might say, criminally. I remember 

 standing once on a high ridge and look- 

 ing across Lewis river canyon to the op- 

 posite slope, about 10 miles. Suddenly a 

 tiny thread of smoke rose above the trees 

 and rapidly increased in volume. In a 

 short time another column rose a few 

 hundred yards away, and a little later still 

 another, and so on until there was a whole 

 line of small white pillars floating skyward 

 and growing larger all the time. Some 

 vandal was going out of the canyon, set- 

 ting fire as he went. By night that slope 

 was a seething, roaring hell of flame. 



The prospector applies the match under 

 the delusion that the country will be easier 

 to explore after it has been "burned off." 

 He does noc stop to consider the possible 

 damage to the water supply — the miner's 

 main dependence. The hunter starts fires 

 because he imagines he can afterwards 

 traverse the woods, in quest of game, with 

 less difficulty. It never enters his head 

 that when the forests are gone the game 

 will go also. The stockman hopes that 

 after the underbrush has been swept away 

 grass will spring up to take its place. The 

 sightseer creates a blaze either for one of 

 the purposes named above or simply to 

 witness the destruction his own hand has 

 caused. 



Briefly stated, then, most forest fires are 

 started either to make traveling and range 

 better, or out of pure destructiveness. Of 

 course there are many in the classes named 

 who take no part in timber destroying, 

 and there are still others who carelessly 

 but unintentionally let fires get beyond 

 their control. Timber fires often escape 

 from land clearings; but, as before said, 

 most of them are probably set deliberately. 

 The impression that "burning off" makes 

 better range and traveling is, in the main, 

 erroneous. True, in isolated instances, or 

 in places where the big timber is sparse 

 and the underbrush heavy, a fire may cause 

 a better growth of grass and easier travel- 

 ing. In such cases, the large trees are 

 generally too scattering to burn. But in 



