A November Hunt
Coltere Savidge

A slight beeping awakes me from my slumber, and grows increasingly louder until I fumble with the knob on top of my clock. My eyes slowly focus on the crimson glow; it is 5am and the house is still silent in the early morning darkness. I grab for a pile of clothes draped over my chair and head for the bathroom. Only half awake, but driven by routine, I wash my face and brush my teeth and then head down stairs.

The warmth radiating from the fireplace attracts me to the front of the soapstone stove where red embers can still be seen through the sooty glass. After dropping my clothes on the floor to warm, I find a rough piece of maple in the wood box to feed the hungry fire. I turn on a light and start to pull on clothes. Long underwear is followed by heavy socks, and as I push my head through a thick wool sweater I can hear my dad making his way through the downstairs bathroom and out to the living room. He too is clad in long johns, and looks as if he desperately needs a cup of coffee.

Even through my wool socks the slate on the kitchen floor is freezing as I stumble around preparing a light breakfast of toast. My dad pours milk and sugar into his coffee and taps the mug with the spoon as he stirs. We both continue to dress, stepping into dense wool pants and then into heavy boots that have been warming by the fire. Grabbing my gloves and hat, I throw on a red wool jacket as I step from the warm house out into the entryway. It is now 5:45am and still dark. The air is crisp and probably in the low to mid-teens. Above the sky is clear and the stars are glowing brilliantly.

My dad heads for the truck to warm it and brush off the 2-3 inches of snow that fell late last night, as I make my way down to the darkened shop, cutting fresh tracks in the new snow. My dad drives the truck down in front of the shop and the warm, yellowish glow of the headlights flood the road ahead. He and I grab our rifles, shells and padded seats and carefully place them in the truck. Heat blasts from the vents on the interior as we make our way down the snow covered dirt road. Past open hay and corn fields and along tree crowded dirt roads we climb higher in elevation. Five minutes later we come to a stop on the top of the ridge above my family's property, and I get out. A quick good-bye and good-luck from my dad and I am alone, the motor of the truck fading as it retraces its tracks back down the road.

The quiet of the early morning is broken by the metallic click of my bolt action, pushing a shell into the chamber of my Reuger .280, and then another as my safety is pushed into place. Having made the same walk year after year I am familiar with the winding logging road as it cuts downhill through stands of sugar maple and American beech trees. Finding a good place to sit on a familiar embankment I brush away the snow and fallen leaves to create a somewhat dry and quiet place to sit for the morning. Nestled on the ground, leaning against a large sugar maple with the fresh smell of earth and decomposing leaves rushing through my nostrils I await for light and any sign of movement.

In the fading darkness I can begin to make out the thick swampy area of eastern red cedar, eastern hemlock and red spruce that lies at the bottom of the sugar maple, American beech and white ash covered hill where I sit. Directly out in front of me, through the tops of the naked deciduous trees and down the valley towards my house, central Vermont begins to stir from the long, cold night. Slowly the warm glow of a rising sun fights off the darkness of the night before. The cool blues, greens and grays that colored the early morning landscape are chased after by the warm golden glow of the sun as it moves down the hill. Crows, chickadees and blue jays take to the air, as nuthatches methodically claw and peck at the trees surrounding me. Red squirrels jump back and forth between trees and scamper through the light snow. Down in the valley in front of me, dogs are barking and the faint roar of car engines can be heard as other hunters and early risers navigate the many dirt roads.

Still further down the valley the mechanized gutter cleaners for two dairy farms can be heard as farmers finish with their morning milking. The roar of a chainsaw can be heard, and a couple of seconds later, the crash of a tree as it is laid down with precision. A logging truck is heard downshifting as it approaches a hill with a new load of logs, and a rhythmic tapping is heard off in the distance where a local builder is working hard to enclose a new structure before winter truly sets in.

Below me the forest stretches down the valley, hardwood mixing into softwood and then back into hardwood that creates a seemingly endless mosaic of trees that foresters are managing, loggers are harvesting, maple syrup makers are tapping, and conservationists are conserving. Openings within this blanket of trees serve as corn or hay fields that are harvested to feed dairy cows and horses during the winter, andwhich farmers use to graze their animals during the summer. The dog that is barking across the hill to my left belongs to my neighbors who recently built a house on their wooded property. They spend much of their time hiking, skiing and snowshoeing in the woods around them, and are currently working to conserve much of the land surrounding my family's property. The valley before me has awakened with land use.

Sitting with the warm glow of the sun streaming onto my face, I glance to the left. Movement below me shows the outline of a deer moving through the thick cedars. Through the scope on the rifle I can tell that it is only a young doe and that it is alone. The cedars, which act as cover for the deer to move through, stretch towards the east and give way to American beech, white ash and sugar maple as the ground rises and disappears over the hill. Continuing in this direction the forest that surrounds me moves into New Hampshire, and then to Maine, while in the other direction, northern New York. All along this corridor people are interacting with the forest; and like the individuals that I can hear working in the valley below me•people in New Hampshire, Maine and New York are busy harvesting timber, conserving lands, hunting, fishing, farming and developing the land around them.

From my seat below the sugar maple, such varying land use seems to continue in relative harmony within my little corner of central Vermont. However, across the northeast a different picture is being painted; the various land-uses that I can see and hear from the woods in Vermont are being repeated on a much larger stage but with much greater criticism. Conflict has arisen between many of these land-uses as there has been increased pressure to try and determine the future of the forests of the northeast.

Currently the northern forest represents many different values; with ecological and economic values at the center of the conflict among loggers, conservationists, developers and politicians. For many people, such as those that I can hear this morning, the northern forest is their livelihood and stands as the economic foundation of their lives. To others, like my neighbor, who are not making their living from the northern forest, the area represents a certain level of biological health or recreational potential. Even to others, the forest might represent a place to recreate the self, or a place in desperate need of development. Among the different values that abound in the northern forest, a clear answer as to the future of the region remains unsettled.

In my rush to return home from school and make it out into the woods for yet another Vermont hunting season, I drove along Route 25 that took me through Maine and across New Hampshire. During this trip home, many of these different views became evident. Economic values in the form of raw materials would roll by on trucks, while property values were being posted, land was being sold and properties developed. Ecological, historic and aesthetic values were all represented in various parks and reserves, and recreational values existed in ski areas and hiking trails that dotted the landscape. Traveling through Maine, New Hampshire and into Vermont, I could see how these values changed from town to town and from house to house. With every mile, the notion of differing perspectives became increasingly apparent.

With the growing sensation of hunger in my stomach, and content that I had seen a deer I begin to make my way down through the woods to my house. The new snow is quiet underfoot and I am able to move silently through the forest. I move through the hardwoods, peering up at the tall, straight maple, beech and ash trees that are mixed about. Stepping into the cedars I pick my way through the dense cover. In the snow I see the tracks of the deer that walked by an hour ago, probably headed towards a sunny knoll to bed down. Down the hill I continue, the cedars changing back into hardwoods scattered with thick young beech and hemlock stands, all the while I am looking for deer.

Pausing briefly on top of a small knoll to scan the woods below me, the image of the forested valley appears again. With chainsaws and car engines crying out in the distance, and with a metallic roof glistening in the sun on a hillside before me, I cannot help but think of the future of the forest, and what my role might be.

Growing up in Vermont, I have been able to live closely with the land around me. Through activities such as hunting, fishing, haying, sugaring, gardening, carpentry and splitting wood I have come to value physical labor, the sustainable use of renewable resources, the conservation and preservation of ecological and economic values, and the different livelihoods that abound in the northeast. As a student, courses in the arts, conservation, ecology, anthropology, policy and philosophy have enabled me to explore and more fully understand the tensions embodied in the things that I value.

Independent studies in watercolor and oil painting have let me visually explore the landscapes that I love, while an internship with a consultant forestry group gave me hands-on experience in forestry. Architectural Design expanded my carpenter's perspective on buildings and development while Environmental Law and the study of the National Forest Service challenged me to closely understand different environmental policies and management strategies.

Standing on the hillside observing many different land-uses, I am able to recognize the tensions between such uses as a result of my education. Foresters, developers, preservationists, politicians, recreation, conservation, logging and tourism all depend on the northern forest. While foresters, developers, and loggers consume the forest's resources as a source of income; preservationists, recreation, and tourism rely on the forest retaining such resources. Should the forest be used for the purpose of supporting timber industries and families in the northeast or should the northern forest be preserved in National Parks and Reserves focused on ecological health, tourism and recreation? More importantly, how should each interest group be represented in the future of the forest, so as to ensure ecological health, livelihoods as well as timber and non-timber resources?

While I do not have the specific answers to the question of the future of the northern forest, I sense that the human ecological way of looking at the world, the inclusion of all stakeholders•both human and non-human, may provide the most effective way for understanding the future of this region. Through this process, we may be able to move the northern forest debate forward; away from individuals imposing their self interests on others, to a place where common ground among the various players may be found.

Moving again through the woods, there is a sharp snap from just in front of me. Quickly drawing my rifle up to eye level I just catch the white tail of a deer as it bounds into the thick cover in front of me. The deer was bedded down and had obviously been aware of my presence the whole time I was standing on the knoll. Immediately I find the tracks in the fresh snow and quietly begin to follow them.

Slowly following the bounding deer tracks through the open hardwoods my gaze is frequently drawn to the trees around me. In the thick long logs of the sugar maple and white ash trees that stand before, a certain amount of economic gain is represented. The twisted form of a hophornbean off to my left or the young beeches that are shrouded in dead leaves surrounding me would be exciting to capture with paints and certainly represent the aesthetic values that can be seen in trees; while the nuthatches and red squirrels darting from tree to tree expose the ecological value and importance of trees to the greater landscape. As I continue to walk it becomes even more apparent that the trees engulfing me represent a wide range of values and emotions.

To each person that I can clearly hear working in the valley before me, the northern forest presents a different means of living. Infused in this livelihood are certain values pertaining to the continuation of that way of life and the landscape that sustains it. However, there are also many shared values, and just as I am able to see multiple values in the trees surrounding my walk through the woods, loggers, developers, farmers, and preservationists see the land as representing many different values that are often shared. Loggers are not just concerned with harvesting as much timber as possible nor are developers concerned primarily with transforming forests into cities. For the most part both parties are concerned with the ecological impacts of their actions; most loggers do not want to exploit future timber lands and most developers do not want to destroy the landscapes that make many of their buildings profitable.

Halfway through a monoculture plantation of red pines that borders my family's property, I can begin to see the horse pasture behind my house, and begin to taste the fried eggs and coffee that will soon be subduing my hunger. Below me in the fresh snow the deer tracks that I had been following turn and head above our spring and through a section of hardwoods that was recently thinned; the harvested trees being used to heat our house during the cold winter months. My curiosity momentarily fights off my growing hunger and I am off, slowly following the tracks up hill, putting off breakfast even longer. Through the hardwood stand and up past old apple trees into a small stand of field grown white pine I follow the tracks, the trees are large and bushy, pleasant to look at but economically not worth very much. The terrain rises steeply in front of me and the tracks look to accelerate up the incline. I spooked the deer only moments ago, damn those trees.

I quickly make my way up the steep hill, hoping that the animal had stopped in the open hardwoods on top of the incline. However the tracks bound up over the hill, showing no sign of slowing down. Standing alone on the top of the hill I am left to catch my breath, with only a view to the east. The sun isnow well over head and the sky is clear. I can see tree covered hills, turning into open pasture and then back into forested hills disappearing off into the distance. For me, our current challenge is how we choose to pursue the many different activities and ways of life that make up our planet, countries, states, and towns. Human Ecology is the realization that other ways of thinking other than our own exist, and that through such recognition the often elusive connectedness, with which we will create new solutions, may be found.

Giving up on the fleeing deer but not on hunting, and finally giving into my hunger I make my way down the steep hill and onto a logging road above my house. The logging road meanders through young maple stands and comes out on top of our field, next to a long pile of sugar wood. I can now see clearly down the valley, where the sounds of different uses echo throughout the land. Kicking the snow in front of me with every step I walk through the field to my house. Wood smoke pours from the chimney and heat envelopes me as I walk through the front door and warm myself by the fire. The smell of bacon and eggs fills the house.