How our lives changed when we graduated from the picture books of childhood to those with words to concentrate upon! At first the words were simple, a line or two. And then they grew more numerous until soon there were no pictures there at all, only strings of letters and we were left to create the image in our minds. And yet the world around us is filled with stories in pictures we have forgotten how to read. As we wandered along the trails in southeastern Alaska we were able to go back once more to that time of questioning wonder and look at the world with inquisitive eyes. We now can look at a bird and know its name. There is no script upon its brow but combinations of shapes and forms, behavior and pattern convey an message just as clear. We now understand how to look at an assemblage of plants. There is an order in the succession of their appearance. When something was out of place, we sleuthed out the cause of the disturbance.
A trail wanders beside Hanus Creek, rising and falling in gentle undulations. Filtered green light streams through the multi-storied canopy. Giant platter-like leaves of devil's club and thimbleberry stretch out into the gaps between shading spruce and hemlock arms. Tips of spruce branches litter the ground, neatly cut from on high. Some still have the cones attached, each two inches long and with square-tipped bracts. Steps away a reddish-gold mound attracts the eye. Fragments of spruce cone are strewn about, thousands upon thousands of singular bracts and the remaining cores, like cobs of corn have been tossed in a pile, a midden of sorts. A myriad of tiny holes give clues as to the developer of these sites. Above the definitive answer lies. A shower of debris rains upon our heads but not before the chattering alarm of a tiny red squirrel attracts our attention.
