Last updated: April 4, 2018
Article
A Disturbance in the Force
L. Byrley
©George Jacobi 2018
Kai’s nest is near the tiptop of a Ponderosa Pine. Kai lives in and on Ponderosa, eats the seeds from cones, and the truffles that grow in the shade beneath. In winter he chews the bark to get at the cambium, and from that fragrant bark his world has always had the scent of vanilla. Not butterscotch, as his sweetly mistaken sister believes– an affectionate argument they have had since birth. Since yesterday though, the world smells like ashes, but Kai doesn’t remember yesterday much. Squirrels live in the moment. The forest fire had been coming for days, eating the plateau, and when it swept through Kai’s steep-sided valley home, it leapt from ridge to ridge, sparing the lower parts. Kai and his sister Bab huddled trembling in their nest. The world roared and the wind screamed, and sparks flew around like angry bees. Deer, bear, and lion all ran, tears evaporating on their cheeks. Treetops broke off, even in this ravine, and fell like flaming spears. On the ridgetops, oh, on the woeful ridgetops, came an orange monster that blew away everything in its path, arbitrarily spreading death and desolation.
Today a smoldering black world lies all about. No birds call. No insects chirp. The two squirrels, tasseled ears twitching, peer out at a silent vale. Ponderosas left standing are not dead; their thick bark armors them against fire. They will live despite having not a single needle left, and occasional fires will keep other trees from invading their territory. But it will be many seasons before they regain strength and power. Thunder rumbles to the southwest, over the Grand Canyon.
Kai’s nest is near the tiptop of a Ponderosa Pine. Kai lives in and on Ponderosa, eats the seeds from cones, and the truffles that grow in the shade beneath. In winter he chews the bark to get at the cambium, and from that fragrant bark his world has always had the scent of vanilla. Not butterscotch, as his sweetly mistaken sister believes– an affectionate argument they have had since birth. Since yesterday though, the world smells like ashes, but Kai doesn’t remember yesterday much. Squirrels live in the moment. The forest fire had been coming for days, eating the plateau, and when it swept through Kai’s steep-sided valley home, it leapt from ridge to ridge, sparing the lower parts. Kai and his sister Bab huddled trembling in their nest. The world roared and the wind screamed, and sparks flew around like angry bees. Deer, bear, and lion all ran, tears evaporating on their cheeks. Treetops broke off, even in this ravine, and fell like flaming spears. On the ridgetops, oh, on the woeful ridgetops, came an orange monster that blew away everything in its path, arbitrarily spreading death and desolation.
Today a smoldering black world lies all about. No birds call. No insects chirp. The two squirrels, tasseled ears twitching, peer out at a silent vale. Ponderosas left standing are not dead; their thick bark armors them against fire. They will live despite having not a single needle left, and occasional fires will keep other trees from invading their territory. But it will be many seasons before they regain strength and power. Thunder rumbles to the southwest, over the Grand Canyon.
L. Byrley
The wind picks up slowly. Soft rain hisses as it falls on the burnt forest floor. Imperceptive they both increase and by noon, skeletal trees are rattling against each other loudly. Wind is from the north now, and the rain has become baseball-sized hail, which crashes among the fallen trunks and melts into the ash. Smoke fills the air with the hail, and it becomes hard to see, not that the terrified squirrels are looking. Their tree sags downhill a few degrees and sways.
A sound comes from upstream, a new roar. Down the gully comes an angry gravity-driven
brown torrent, a mud tsunami carrying with it huge broken pieces of the Ponderosa forest. Any trees left standing crash haphazardly. The roots of the dead or dying pines can no longer hold the saturated ground in place; the earth itself is in motion. This once-placid little creek is out of control. One disaster, fire, has provoked two more, flood and avalanche. Kai and Bab and their nest are thrown from the pine as it hits the bank and rolls down the ravine with its neighbors, a pick-up- sticks game in the path of a fire hose. The stream hits a meadow and levels out; logs jam. Two squirrels fly high, somersaulting and splashing into the water. Thick white tails sink fast. With difficulty, they climb onto a raft made of bark, lean their trembling backs into each other for comfort, and watch the burnt landscape go by.
The current begins to pick up speed again. There is no way to stop this ride. It tilts forward; open space appears ahead. Brother and Sister share one brief look in each other’s eyes, and the violent river drops them over the rim of the Grand Canyon.
A sound comes from upstream, a new roar. Down the gully comes an angry gravity-driven
brown torrent, a mud tsunami carrying with it huge broken pieces of the Ponderosa forest. Any trees left standing crash haphazardly. The roots of the dead or dying pines can no longer hold the saturated ground in place; the earth itself is in motion. This once-placid little creek is out of control. One disaster, fire, has provoked two more, flood and avalanche. Kai and Bab and their nest are thrown from the pine as it hits the bank and rolls down the ravine with its neighbors, a pick-up- sticks game in the path of a fire hose. The stream hits a meadow and levels out; logs jam. Two squirrels fly high, somersaulting and splashing into the water. Thick white tails sink fast. With difficulty, they climb onto a raft made of bark, lean their trembling backs into each other for comfort, and watch the burnt landscape go by.
The current begins to pick up speed again. There is no way to stop this ride. It tilts forward; open space appears ahead. Brother and Sister share one brief look in each other’s eyes, and the violent river drops them over the rim of the Grand Canyon.
The Coconino Wall is still below when Kai can think again, but he lies right on its edge. That
straight drop of hundreds of feet would have been the end of him. He is shivering, sprawled on a rock, and everything hurts. Without moving, he checks off his senses. The only roar now is from far below where the waterfall meets the Hermit Formation, the sky is clearing, and the scent is complex, dry and geological. There is the taste of blood in his mouth.
He manages to sit up and look around. No need to look for his sister – he can feel her absence, her permanent absence, in his brain and heart. One more sorrow to carry around. Kai is alone.
This is not the forest. It’s a land of sandstone and shrubs. Blackbrush, century plants, yuccas, mesquite, and cacti – everything here is covered with spines. Myriad cliffs host dozens of tumultuous brown waterfalls, eerily silent in the distance. Tiny lizards do pushups in the blinding sun. Other reptile eyes peer at him from shaded places. Kai is in the open, unprotected, and he is dizzy and can’t concentrate. Even his eyes hurt in the light. The nearest lizard cocks its head at him, looks up, then scurries out of sight with a dozen quick and tiny steps. A shadow falls on Kai. Instinct takes over and he rolls left. The Goshawk misses. Wings beat so close Kai feels the air move, hears the disappointed shriek next to his head.
straight drop of hundreds of feet would have been the end of him. He is shivering, sprawled on a rock, and everything hurts. Without moving, he checks off his senses. The only roar now is from far below where the waterfall meets the Hermit Formation, the sky is clearing, and the scent is complex, dry and geological. There is the taste of blood in his mouth.
He manages to sit up and look around. No need to look for his sister – he can feel her absence, her permanent absence, in his brain and heart. One more sorrow to carry around. Kai is alone.
This is not the forest. It’s a land of sandstone and shrubs. Blackbrush, century plants, yuccas, mesquite, and cacti – everything here is covered with spines. Myriad cliffs host dozens of tumultuous brown waterfalls, eerily silent in the distance. Tiny lizards do pushups in the blinding sun. Other reptile eyes peer at him from shaded places. Kai is in the open, unprotected, and he is dizzy and can’t concentrate. Even his eyes hurt in the light. The nearest lizard cocks its head at him, looks up, then scurries out of sight with a dozen quick and tiny steps. A shadow falls on Kai. Instinct takes over and he rolls left. The Goshawk misses. Wings beat so close Kai feels the air move, hears the disappointed shriek next to his head.
Squirrels are adept at avoiding danger. Evolution has taught them to dodge, to put solid objects between them and predators, to be erratic and to be fast. And it has taught them that safety lies above. Kai heads uphill. Shrubs turn into small trees, pinyons and junipers. The way gets steeper and steeper, and soon he is climbing a ravine, still wet but rich with foliage which he uses for cover. A dark spot feels safe; he stops under a thick juniper and pants. The hawk circles farther and farther away until it is a dot on the horizon. This ridge continues up for a long way, but it is climbable, and near the top more and more tall shapes loom until they are a thick mass at the crest. Kai smells vanilla. Maybe it’s butterscotch after all. He sighs and starts to climb.
