Mayfly and Ladybug

We gather in mist
and take the trail up 
to deeper mist. 
Mayfly and Ladybug await
and we are off to meet them
and perhaps to save them.
All I know is their names
and that they are forests.

When plotting timber cuts, it's customary here for a forester to give their plots names. The forester who plotted Mayfly and Ladybug apparently liked tiny flyers and had an ear for language. But what makes Mayfly and Ladybug special is what they are: true forests. Though cut once long ago, they've not yet been brought under what is called  "management," which in the lowland forests of the Cascades means first clearcutting, then spraying with herbicides to knock back whatever tries to return, then replanting with greenhouse grown, commercial cultivars. Common species of common age rise like needled corn, a crop more than a forest, usually to be harvested every forty to sixty years. So far Mayfly and Ladybug have managed to escape that fate, but they are on the list. 

They've also had the luxury of time, over a century or so, to emerge into their early maturity and complexity. No, they are not the original, primeval forests of this place, but by regrowing naturally, of their own accord, they are extensions of it. We have come to be in accord with that accord.

Photo by Sarah Gardam. The dog is mine, Taylor.

When passing from plantation to forest, the main indications are visual, a transition first in pattern. Even aged repetitiveness, fir and fern unbroken, gives way to wider variation in species, tree-girth, height and color. Shrub and understory rise into spaces carved out beneath the vaulted canopy. Even the forest floor reveals a new complexity, heaped with downfall and mossy iridescence, making home and cupboard and refugia, growing spongelike to soak in and hold water for the critical dry summers months. If our capabilities of smell and hearing were sensitive enough, we would notice contrasts in these realms as well. The transition from plantation to true forest is a shift in worlds.

Mayfly and Ladybug border Blanchard State Forest, a popular local hiking area. It would seem a simple matter to shift the boundary lines to include and protect these two fragments. They are only 82 and 84 acres respectively. But the mills want the big trees and the politicians want the financial contributions and jobs. Further, Skagit County, where these forests find themselves, is politically conservative with a pro-industry set of commissioners. There is much nervous talk therefore about the current primary race for Washington State Commissioner of Public Lands. The votes are cast and the only candidate committed to saving these legacy forests, Dave Upthegrove, is in a dead heat for second place.  It's reasonable to assume that the fates Mayfly, Ladybug, and scores of other legacy forests hang on the outcome.

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Update:

After a nail-biting fifteen days, all the counties have reported and the votes are officially in. Dave Upthegrove has gained second place by 51 votes! It’s not a lot but it’s enough to place him on the ballot for the general election in November.

It’s safe to say the huge grassroots support behind Upthegrove made the difference. When it was clear how close the tally would be, over 350 volunteers got on phones and knocked on doors as part of a spontaneous and massive vote curing operation. Vote curing is a process in which state election administrators send notices to voters whenever there is a discrepancy in signature or other detail on their ballot, asking for correction in order for the vote to be counted. Upthegrove supporters tracked down and contacted over 2,500 such voters, making sure those votes got counted.

It shows the passion people have for their forests, and bodes well for the general election, which now is only eight weeks away. The work continues and the movement grows. And for Mayfly and Ladybug, there is fresh hope on the horizon.

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