Sad Day

A terribly sad day here on the Perrydale Ranch. This grove of fir trees has adorned the southern edge of our property since we moved in here 35 years ago. The trees were probably planted seven to ten years prior, making the grove well over 40 years. 40+ years. Today, it took the land owner five hours to cut down every last tree. Five hours. I assume he will doze out the stumps, and prepare himself another three acres to farm grass seed. Three acres, if that. While it is not our property, and we had not one word to say about this choice, we can offer what we knew of this ragged sanctuary.

This was home to eagles (last summer, we saw 10 at one time flying in and out of the trees), crows, coyotes, rabbits, quail. In the pre dawn darkness outside our house, an owl hooting from trees nearby would be answered by one or more from this grove. Countless songbirds called this home. In the winter, it offered a windbreak of sorts for us when storms raged out of the south. Now? A pile of logs, soon to be a barren hillside where thousands of gallons of chemicals will be sprayed over the years to come.

As late as this past spring, this guy told us he would never log the grove. This, obviously, was an untruth. If and when the day comes that we sell this place, he will be the last person we sell to. He would rip out the 100 or more trees I have planted, and farm right up to the kitchen windows.

The saddest part of this was seeing a large bird, too distant to identify, flying over the plot, circling frantically, until well after the final tree fell.

40+ years. 5 hours. Three acres or less.

Dylan was right: “All the money you make will never buy back your soul.”