Southcrop Forest

The trees of Southcrop have made a striking discovery-one that could change the world for all their kind. But they are trapped in a forest fragment and face destruction from human sprawl. They cannot spread their new-found gift across the land. Then Auja, a young oak, finds little Fur amongst her branches. Fur is a legendary creature not seen for a thousand years, a single intelligent being emerged from a colony of caterpillars. Fur is small and meek and slow, but can travel through the forest and talk with trees. Auja persuades the reluctant Fur to help. Fur embarks on a desperate quest to find the source of all tree power-the mysterious Riverside Farm. Here he must gather the trees' great treasure and carry it across Oak River to the forests of Deep Sky. Fur's long trek is fraught with peril as he races to reach Riverside Farm before it is destroyed. Ghoulish enemies hunt him while machines wreak their deadly havoc. Yet Fur's journey is one of enlightenment as he learns about the ecology of his world, the threat of the human species, and finally, the secret of his existence.

This volume summarizes the results of a survey of British Upper Carboniferous sites, undertaken between 1978 and 1990 as part of the Geological Conservation Review (GCR). The GCR was the first attempt to assess the scientific significance of all Britain's geological sites and has proved a landmark in the development of a coherent geological conservation strategy in this country. To ensure that the assessments were based on a firm logical and scientific foundation, the range of scientific interest was divided into ninety-seven discrete subject 'blocks', reflecting the natural divisions of stratigraphy, palaeogeography and geological process; Westphalian stratigraphy and Namurian stratigraphy were two of these blocks. The first stage in the survey was a review of the literature, to establish a compre hensive database of sites. From this, a provisional list of potentially significant sites was made and this was circulated to all relevant specialists in this country and abroad. At the same time, the sites were visited to assess their physical condition and whether the interest was still extant. In some cases, excavation (so-called 'site-cleaning') was carried out to see if the interest of a site could be resurrected or enhanced. The com ments made by the specialists and the field observations were then used to produce a second site list, which again was circulated for comment.

Trees were one of the first natural resources used by man. In North American, most native and early European settlements were set up near forests from where wood was harvested for firewood, building homes and boats, and for fortifying villages. Western Canada had, and continues to have, huge coniferous forests. McKenzie in British Columbia, Canada, is a community based on timber mills, timber supply and tourism. It has a population of 5,450 people.

Finalist, Shaughnessy Cohen Prize for Political Writing Finalist, Banff Mountain Book Competition Finalist, BC Book Prize Globe and Mail best books of 2018 CBC best Canadian non-fiction of 2018 In the tradition of John Vaillant’s modern classic The Golden Spruce comes a story of the unlikely survival of one of the largest and oldest trees in Canada. On a cool morning in the winter of 2011, a logger named Dennis Cronin was walking through a stand of old-growth forest near Port Renfrew on Vancouver Island. He came across a massive Douglas fir the height of a twenty-storey building. Instead of allowing the tree to be felled, he tied a ribbon around the trunk, bearing the words “Leave Tree.” The forest was cut but the tree was saved. The solitary Douglas fir, soon known as Big Lonely Doug, controversially became the symbol of environmental activists and their fight to protect the region’s dwindling old-growth forests. Originally featured as a long-form article in The Walrus that garnered a National Magazine Award (Silver), Big Lonely Doug weaves the ecology of old-growth forests, the legend of the West Coast’s big trees, the turbulence of the logging industry, the fight for preservation, the contention surrounding ecotourism, First Nations land and resource rights, and the fraught future of these ancient forests around the story of a logger who saved one of Canada's last great trees.

Some time in February, when the snow and sleet have shut out from the wearied mind eventhe memory of spring, the man of the woods generally receives his first inspiration. He maycatch it from some companion's chance remark, a glance at the map, a vague recollection ofa dim past conversation, or it may flash on him from the mere pronouncement of a name.The first faint thrill of discovery leaves him cool, but gradually, with the increasingenthusiasm of cogitation, the idea gains body, until finally it has grown to plan fit fordiscussion.Of these many quickening potencies of inspiration, the mere name of a place seems tostrike deepest at the heart of romance. Colour, mystery, the vastnesses of unexplored spaceare there, symbolized compactly for the aliment of imagination. It lures the fancy as a flylures the trout. Mattágami, Peace River, Kánanaw, the House of the Touchwood Hills, Rupert's House, the Land of Little Sticks, Flying Post, Conjuror's House--how the syllablesroll from the tongue, what pictures rise in instant response to their suggestion! The journeyof a thousand miles seems not too great a price to pay for the sight of a place called the Hillsof Silence, for acquaintance with the people who dwell there, perhaps for a glimpse of thesaga-spirit that so named its environment. On the other hand, one would feel but littledesire to visit Muggin's Corners, even though at their crossing one were assured of thedeepest flavour of the Far North.The first response to the red god's summons is almost invariably the production of a flybook and the complete rearrangement of all its contents. The next is a resumption ofpractice with the little pistol. The third, and last, is pencil and paper, and lists of grub andduffel, and estimates of routes and expenses, and correspondence with men who spellqueerly, bear down heavily with blunt pencils, and agree to be at Black Beaver Portage on acertain date. Now, though the February snow and sleet still shut him in, the spring hasdraw very near. He can feel the warmth of her breath rustling through his revivingmemories.There are said to be sixty-eight roads to heaven, of which but one is the true way, althoughhere and there a by-path offers experimental variety to the restless and bold. The true wayfor the man in the woods to attain the elusive best of his wilderness experience is to go aslight as possible, and the by-paths of departure from that principle lead only to the slightlyincreased carrying possibilities of open-water canoe trips, and permanent camps.