last month the lives of my great rantkhildrrn were taken from them, as s? y were about to be born IK - were nested, cradled in the arms of a imxxl young hemlock named Pinul l e Kapong (flower of exquisite beauty). She provided warmth, protection, and much, much more to my granddaughter's family to be. This fncntl was yet to realize the nnmc of her life, wnen she was taken down with many of her relations, with neither her permission, ex acknowledgement of her universal life force. I come to you as a humble representative of the Bird Tnhe Nation. Once again we have been uprooted from our homes, by means of your relentless chain saws and machinery. We, until most recently, shared our nesting area with many of our relations of the animal nation The plant nation and the Stone people provided our family, ami our many relations, with fine nomes ami ftx x lo f plenty. Much of this was due to brave ytxing trees, who were just beginning their tourney toward the primes of their lives Theirs was a generation just beginning to recover from their parents and grandparents genocide a few short dec arles ago. They were virtually all massacred, leaving with my ancestors, their history to [iass on the their unlxirn children. Included in the lessons of their ancestral tribe were how we worker! together with man to create harmony in were helpless ami in shock. So those- who managed to survive called on the creator for a great council with all the nations. The creator told of medicines found in the plant nation, which would restore man's deficiencies in perception, ami make our universe whole once again. We were told where they were to be found so they could be disbursed by the Bird Tribe ami the rest of the animal nations. Wc retrieved these seeds ami six,res, ami distributed them throughout tne planet, so that the plants ami fungi would be available for the humans with vision to treat those who were deaf ami blind, so they may once again be healthy caretakers. This is a slow process, however, because many humares fear these medicines, ami the changes in perception which occurs. For many, it is as though much of their purpose for existence ami entire social structure is being invalidated. So these medicines are condemned ami even outlawed. Progress is being made, however, especially in many young humans, who are just coming into their ime. For they are not nearly so earful ami set in their ways, fhey seem to sec how those who aren't perceiving are suffering needlessly, and are only doing more damage to 7 themselves ami the universe. We are Itxiking forward to the day wc are once again united with our caretaker relations, for wc love ami miss you oh so much. F". Old Crow Any interference with nature is damnable Not only nature but also the people will suffer Anahario (wife of Grey Owl) In 1904, Bridget Snow wont on holiday with her family to the North Oregon Coast. She has a very fond recollection of this first visit to the place that is now her home, and has been since the 1950s. Bears, cougars, deer, elk, grouse and an endless sea of teaming green vegetation lined the journey. At that time, such a venture was a lengthy and arduous one. It twisted on wound through true wilderness, through "real- forest and through a place that in her lifetime would be transformed into something entirely different. She never imagines! during her first visit that such a place could be so altered in such short order, but it was. and she watched it transpire. The plant expression of these then "real" forests, the huge trees, was the most marked feature she recalls. W e have all seen the photographs of the giant spruce, cedar and hemlock trees from the tmxj when they smothered the landscape as far east as you coukl possibly see, and west right to the edge of our world. But Bridget’s recollection is first hand. Now, Clatsop County, a microcosm of the Pacific Northwest, has alnxist none of its forest legacy. W e ’ve let it all go. Bridget, like many of us, is appalled at this, and concerned about the legacy she will leave for her great grandchildren. Because the mining cycle of our surrounding tree farms has been determined by "experts" in "forest management" to be 4 0 to 5 0 years, we have not concerned ourselves with our own battered but beloved hills since the 194Os and 1950s. Now, tfie gravel roads to the east are being cleared, sprayed and otherwise readied for the next great exodus of trees, and I fear tfie worst. I imagine the vision of its transformation from green to brown, from mystic to void and from life to death, Bridget conveyed her experience with this scenario in Arch Cape in tfie 1950s. From her window she watched. She recalled, “Where I lived I loved the tall beautiful forest— and I saw day by day, it all go down, it made me so very sad". On one of the clear deep pools of Arch Cape Creek, tier grandchildren opened "The Arch Cape Yacht Club", a floating cedar dock used for swimming and other youthful activities. As tfie waters of the creek muddied with the blood of tfie hills, so did tfie vision to tfie oast, and so too did much of Bridget's fondness for the place which 5 0 years prior she had first viewed with awe. Today, nearly 9 0 years after her first visit, she will apparently watch the cycle repeat itself. Cavenham Industries owns most of the forest around us. A vast amount of our public lands, such as our forests, became private as railroad companies were given land as an incentive to build rail routes. Railroad companies became forest product companies. Then, through our government's lack of foresight and tfie greed and shortsightedness of our nation's economy and propensity to consume, we have shaped our forests into what they are today. Even though Oregon is unique because its beaches are public domain, it has preserved almost nothing of its coastal forest, a place that was gone before there was even a chance to understand it. Because these fulls are privately owned, they are not governed by the same regulations, however feeble they may be. which prohibit most types of clear cutting in state and federal forests. Cavenham has repeatedly avoided questions about their plans for tfie eastern fulls. These forest lands, along with the coastal and ocean environment, are the basis for our livelihoods. People visit this area for its geographic uniqueness and beauty. We really must find an option to what Cavenham inevitably has planned for our surroundings. However, even simple dialog has not been easy. My friend Knox Swanson recently called Cavenham to inquire about riding mountain bikes on their roads. Getting answers was like pulling teeth and finally after being told that the roads were open only to rifle hunters, Knox was abruptly disconnected. These are not good neighbors. must realize that they have a great deal to lose with tfie browning of our fulls. Our local community is not "supported by timber dollars", there is rxit enough timber left to support any more than a handful of us. Wo have diversified into a truly renewable tourist based economy. Tourism has its drawbacks, as we all know, but it is certainly more palatable for exist of us than other industries. Somewhere within our great composition of local individuals and businesses is the wherewithal to find alternatives to Cavenham Industries' plan which will fragment and destroy our scenery, water quality, spirit and way of life digging east of Cannon Beach. My recent conversation with Bridget Snow included a message about solutions, compromise and working together. "Its never too late to do something" she stated surely, “I am evidence of that". Through her years of watching, she knows full well that doing nothing will bring nothing. "It is easy to become discouraged", she admits, "but don’t let that stop you from doing the right thing". And yet, I am discouraged when I enter Cannon Beach from the North and kxik at Radar Road, the formally small hand of older forest which bordered Cannon Beech, Ecola State Park and Highway 101. I recall riding my bike through tfie place, hearing grouse in the same location almost every time, seeing elk and deer, a clear stream, but always leaving with the dark thought that it would not persevere. Now it is all gone. Bridget lias encouraged us to rearrange our rage toward constructive ends. I'm sure Bridget is correct, it is never too late. For many years Bridget wrote “jingles" in the sand each morning near her home in Arch Cape. Many of these poems were inspired by the natural beauty that surrounded her. After my visit with her, she recalled a jingle she had once written about her fulls, but could not find it in the hundreds sfie had cataloged. Later, she sent it to me with a note... "Ron, on the hills are a few remaining memories of the monarches of our forests fo remind us of their past glory. They inspired me to write this as a jingle or poem and write it on the sands of Arch Cape for all to see". I turn my back To the sea. I look to the Hills In the East. So verdant. So green, These Monarches of the West. Their beauty overpowers me. Long have They stood These guardians of our shore. H ow long will they remain? I wish to thank Bridget for her insight, which spans and links the century, and for her warm friendship. Ron Logan «»• •. e a r t h t id e a r w l o o N n o r y «>«<*>• iM trtMBl f M o ö u r t a t o r »««U n««« « tu l lia ta r K « fierbabst / molfy stromhoft / ow ner Aesthetic qualities do not hold much weight in today's world. Aesthetic issues take a back seat to governmental agendas, jobs and commodities. Our local governments, chambers of commerce and private citizens Bruce Johnslon ( Controctoi CCB 1 71672 O 201 Spruce Geortvxt. Otogon W ITH (503) 73O M 2I urrtK un edge jult