March/April 09 PonyCare - Trotting the Woods for the Trees Part I

By Margaret Evans, www.earthwaysmedia.com

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Anita and Matt were so excited to see their grandparents again. Belinda (‘Lindie’) and Bert Bell were their Mom’s parents and they were world travellers. They had recently spent some time in Venezuela. Bert, a forestry expert and geography professor at Brokeville University, had spent the last few months working with international agencies and local tribal communities to help them restore tropical forest in a project called Forest Landscapes Forever (FLF). Much of the forest had been clear-cut for mining, oil drilling, and agriculture. The land had been devastated and a huge conservation movement had been started to restore the forest habitat for the people and the wildlife. Now Anita’s grandparents were back in Canada and Gramps was lecturing again and giving talks. Anita and Matt were fascinated with their travels.

“The villagers are amazing people,” Gramps told them during a big family reunion supper. “They live such simple lives compared to us but they are so resourceful and they never give up hope. Just amazing. It always seems to me the more destitute people become, the more hopeful they are for better times.”

“Sometimes it’s all they’ve got,” said Mom shrewdly.

“I bet lots of them depend on donkeys and mules for work,” said Anita almost casually. She knew that lots of developing countries relied on horse power.

“You bet! We even met Chiquito and Cenizo, two ‘bibliomulas’,” Gramps grinned, emphasizing his Spanish accent. “The mules carry books to children in the high mountain villages. You’d love ‘em Anita!”

“What a great idea!” exclaimed Mom.

“And it doesn’t stop there Betsy,” grinned Grandma. “The University of Momboy started this project and now they’re transporting laptops to the villagers.”

“There are phone lines in the mountains?” Dad sounded incredulous.

“Cell phone signals,” said Gramps. “With wireless modems the villagers go online and email local markets to see what produce they need, then supply them accordingly. By mule, of course.”

“That is too cool!” Anita laughed.

“With that level of hope we were talking about, they’re pretty resourceful. But it’s a real crime that so much of their forest was cut down for mining and oil and cattle ranching. FLF is doing a huge project with the villagers planting seedling trees and restoring streams.”

Lots of forests everywhere are being hurt,” said Matt. “I did a project on that in school.”

“Did you include the forest here?” Gramps asked him.

Matt frowned. “No. Nobody’s cutting trees here.”

Gramps studied his grandson. Grandma rolled her eyes and grinned knowingly. Nothing made her husband happier that talking about trees.

“You sure about that?”

“We ride all over Brokeville Hill and there hasn’t been logging there for ages,” said Anita.

“And there’s no oil wells…”

“And people raise their cows in the valley…”

“And…” Anita hesitated, sensing Gramps was off in another direction.

“And maybe,” said Grandpa, “there are other things hurting forests like global warming.”

“Well, we’ve got enough problems with mountain pine beetles,” agreed Dad. “Millions of trees have died because of them.”

“It’s even bigger than that,” said Gramps soberly. “Some colleagues of mine just finished a huge study. Trees right across western North America are dying at twice the rate they were 20 years ago.”

“Why?” Matt stared at him.

“Warmer temperatures and less snow creates drought which puts more stress on the trees. The dry soil exposes the roots so trees don’t grow as fast and die earlier.”

Anita stared at him. Gramps words were still on her mind when, the next day, Matt and Anita took Gramps up Brokeville Hill. Mom and Grandma were going to do some baking and Dad had promised Pete Poole, their neighbour, that he’d give him a ride to town for some building supplies. Anita rode Penny, Matt rode his mountain bike, and Gramps, an avid jogger, took advantage of the trails to jog the route to the lookout.

“You know Gramps,” said Anita, “there are a lot of trees on the hill that look pretty spindly. There were lots of blow-downs last winter with all the storms we had.”

Gramps glanced around, his expert eye taking in the stressed signs of sagging branches, exposed roots, carbon chips from past forest fires, and a lack of vigourous growth. He listened. The forest was quiet. Too quiet. 

“It’s not just the trees either,” he said quietly. “There’s been a huge loss of song birds and honeybees. The seasons are changing and animals returning on their spring migrations aren’t always finding the food they need when they get here.”

Penny hesitated a moment as she stepped over a small branch on the trail. It had broken off a few weeks ago. Gramps noticed the pony’s awareness of obstructions on the trail. He though of the mules in Venezuela and how careful they are, just like Penny.

“This hill could benefit from a replanting project,” he observed. “There’s a lot of dead wood in here and slide debris.”

“Watch Gramps!” yelled Matt. “See this!”

Matt flew down a side trail. Ahead of him was a drop obstacle used by competitive mountain bike riders. At a reckless speed, he lifted into the air for a few seconds before landing on the trail in a splash of wet mud and dirt. With a cry of triumph he punched the air as he sailed down to re-join the main trail as Anita and Gramps gaped in startled astonishment.

“You must be more careful now, Matt,” Gramps cautioned, well aware of the thin line between safety and tragedy.

“It’s easy,” Matt boasted. “Honest. I’ve done it lots!”

“And the lots of times I’ve seen you do it you’ve landed before the bike,” teased Anita.

Gramps frowned. “We don’t want any broken bones today.”

The three of them moved on to the lookout. Matt cycled ahead as Gramps walked comfortably next to Penny. He looked at her with appreciation.

“Penny’s a great pony, Anita.”

“She sure is,” grinned Anita, patting her neck. “She’s really honest and she can do everything. Even carry stuff the way mules do! She would make a great bibliomula!”

Gramps chuckled. But a whoop ahead caught their attention again.

“I think Matt is trying to do everything too,” sighed Gramps as a wail of pain from Matt’s direction notched up their anxiety.

Gramps moved into a jog and Anita urged Penny forward in a trot toward the sound. At another obstacle Matt was on the ground nursing a twisted ankle. Anita leapt off Penny, secured her, then grabbed her first aid kit from her saddle bag and rushed to wrap a support bandage on the already swelling foot.

But a sudden cracking sound arrested their attention. The bough of a fir tree snapped and fell, and their grandfather was knocked to the ground. Anita screamed as she rushed to him, calling his name.
“Is he all right?” Matt’s face was ashen as he hobbled painfully to Anita.

“I don’t know. Gramps!”

Gramps had been knocked over by the rush of the smaller branches. The main branch had only just missed him. But the sudden impact of the branches was enough to stun him, and now he lay on the ground.

It was a moment or two before Gramps came around. To Anita it seemed an eternity. He groaned as he felt the deep bruising sting of soft tissue injury on his thigh and soreness in his ribs.

Keep still,” Anita ordered him softly as her thoughts raced. “Where does it hurt?”

“My thigh.”

"Can you move your leg?”

Gramps tensed as he gingerly tested himself. He could move it without further pain but the sting of the bruising intensified.  “Nothing broken,” he grunted. “Just bruising.”

“Good,” Anita sounded relieved. “But we need help. Maybe I should go get…”

“Give me a minute,” he sighed. “We can get back…”

Anita rushed to Penny and pulled out a roll of vet wrap and a small towel. She stopped and listened. Matt looked at her anxiously.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly as she located the source of a stream bubbling down the slope. The meltwater was clear and very cold. Perfect. She soaked the towel into the stream then rushed back to Gramps. He adjusted his pants so that Anita could wrap the injury in the ice cold towel and then secure it. The cold made Gramps shiver but he grinned anyway.

“That’s pretty effective wrapping,” he said with admiration.

“Vet wrap,” she grinned as she pulled out her cell phone and tried calling home. But there was no signal.
“What happened?” asked Matt as he hobbled closer to Gramps. “Why did the branch fall?”

Gramps shook his head. “Weakness maybe. It was likely damaged in a recent storm.”

Anita moved to a different spot and tried dialling again. But they were in a dead zone, which she suspected. She took stock.

“Matt, can you walk if you use your bike for support?”

”I think so,” he bit his lip. “What about Gramps?”

Anita looked at him critically. He was tall, but not heavy. He was fit which meant that he would have some flexibility. She grinned as she glanced at her pony. “Gramps’ll ride Penny. I’ll lead.”

“What?” Gramps stared at her.

“If adults can ride mules in Venezuela, I’m sure you can ride a pony down Brokeville Hill. You don’t have to do anything. Just sit in the saddle and hold her mane. Here, I’ll help you get up.” As she put her arm under his arm, her voice became more sober. “We have to get home. Fast.”

Gramps felt better on his feet as he cautiously took a deep breath. His ribs felt sore but nothing worse than that. His thigh ached and the sting of deep bruising was starting to take hold. The cold wrap helped but it would wear off soon.

To make it easier for Gramps to ease himself into the saddle, Anita led him to a slight rise in the forest floor, then stood Penny close beside him. Penny stood quietly as he settled in the saddle, and Anita quickly adjusted the stirrups as long as they could go so that he could rest his feet in them with less pull on his thigh. She checked the area once more to be sure they hadn’t left anything behind, then nodded to Matt to start walking.
As they moved down the trail, Anita had a whole new reserved respect for the trees around her. She constantly glanced up to be sure the path ahead wasn’t going to be stricken with another falling branch. This had never happened before and she felt really unnerved. She could see that Matt too was checking the trees.

She glanced at Gramps to be sure he was okay but she could tell this was an effort. His face was strained and he was pale. She slowed Penny, calling to Matt to hold up.

“Okay Gramps?”

He opened his eyes and nodded. “Keep going…” he seemed to whisper.

Fear connected between Anita and Matt. She tossed her cell phone to him. “Go ahead. Get down the hill to where you can get a signal. Call home. Fast.”

He nodded, his face pale, then turned and hobbled faster down the hill.

“Hang on, Gramps.”

Anita took firmer hold of Penny and led her steadily, slowly down the slope. It seemed to take forever but she knew they were making progress. Meanwhile, questions scorched her mind. Were the trees on Brokeville Hill dying? What about the forests in the foothills? She knew how ravaged the pine trees were because of the mountain pine beetle. But what about everything else? What about Gramps? Was he more hurt than she thought? Focus, she said to herself, focus.

Lower down the trail, Matt’s hands trembled as he tried the cell phone again. It rang. Pick up, he willed Mom.

“Hello.”

“Mom!” Matt yelled, his voice sobbing. He told her what happened. In a moment Mom had called 911, then she and Grandma rushed to the car to meet the paramedics at the trailhead. Meanwhile, Matt hobbled more quickly and painfully down the hill. He was sitting next to his bike nursing his ankle when they arrived. Mom rushed to him just as the paramedics pulled in. He looked beyond Mom to the attendants and pointed toward the trail.
“Go help Gramps!”

Turning down the final switchback, Anita, Gramps, and Penny came into view and the attendants rush toward them, instantly taking over Gramps’ care. Moments later, he was in the ambulance on his way to the hospital with Grandma. Mom asked Anita again what had happened, then hugged her daughter, sensing how exhausted she was.

“Can you ride Penny home okay?”

“Oh yes,” Anita nodded. “You taking Matt in the car? Did the paramedics look at his ankle? He needs an ice gel wrap on his ankle.”

Mom grinned. Anita was always the caregiver. What she learned from caring for Penny she transferred to helping others so often. “That’s what they said too. He’ll be fine. I’ll put his bike in the trunk.”

The ride home was quiet. Anita could finally breathe easier knowing Gramps was in expert care. But thoughts kept tumbling through her mind about what he had said, the dying trees, and how close he had come to being really hurt. She bit her lip, thinking of the consequences if it happened again. What if a tree had fallen on Matt or Penny?

Instinctively, she leaned forward to stroke her pony’s neck. Penny was tired. It had been a long day. Her walk was steady as she instinctively followed the route home without any cues from Anita. The quiet rhythm of her gait was soothing. She felt strong, dependable, and trusting. Anita took enormous comfort in knowing that, no matter what predicament she found herself in, she could always rely on Penny to help solve the problem. That’s why she loved her so much. She couldn’t help wondering if that’s how the Venezuelan villagers and farmers felt about their mules. She thought of their forests far away and pictured Chiquito and Cenizo toiling up the mountain paths with books and laptops, taking new knowledge to children in remote villages. And like them she realised that she’d learned something too about the new dangers in their own forests around Brokeville. Right then, as if out of the heart of Venezuela, Anita had an idea. It surfaced in her mind clear and bright and full of hope. She couldn’t wait to tell her family. 

Back home, Anita untacked Penny and turned her out into her paddock to roll while she got her stall ready. She fluffed a bed of straw deeper than usual, set out two thick flakes of hay, and measured her ration. Mom had put carrot and apple peelings in the tack room fridge and Anita emptied the whole bag into Penny’s meal. She grinned. She could hear Penny nickering urgently from the gate. She didn’t need to be led in; Penny trotted right into her stall the moment Anita opened the gate. To the sound of her steady chewing, Anita wiped down her saddle and bridle, cleaned the bit, and folded the saddle pad to take to the house for washing. She put her first aid kit away, making a note to replenish what she had used today. Giving Penny a quick pat, she ran to the house for news on Gramps.

“He’s going to be fine,” grinned Mom. “Just bruising. Nothing broken. Dad’s gone to pick him and Grandma up.”

“Wow, thank goodness!” Anita felt relief flood through her. “I was scared.”

“You did great,” Mom hugged her. “Tony, one of the paramedics, was pretty impressed with that cold wrap. He thinks they should use vet wrap too!”

Anita giggled. “Just improvising, that’s all. Penny was great. She didn’t fuss at Gramps riding her at all.”
“Wanna bet Gramps’ll have saddle sores tomorrow?”

“On top of all his other sores?” Anita grinned. “Hope not. Speaking of sores, how’s Matt?”

“Sore,” mom grinned. “But it’s not stopping him playing video games.”

Anita rolled her eyes. “I’m starving…”

“Lasagne, salad, French bread, and toffee pudding coming up,” Mom announced as she checked the oven.
Supper was another celebration. Gramps couldn’t praise Anita enough for her quick thinking, not to mention Penny’s contribution by carrying him down the hill. But the real celebration was that Gramps hadn’t been badly hurt.

“I had a great idea coming home,” announced Anita.

Mom and Dad paused, glanced at each other, and then stared steadily at Anita. They knew too well what Anita’s “great ideas” could lead to.

“Keep talking,” said Dad.

“Uh oh!” groaned Matt.

“Hear her out,” Mom cautioned her son with a grin. “It might not be too bad.”

“You wish,” Dad muttered.

“If it’s a show, an event, a riding expedition, a save-the-world-next-weekend project…” began Matt, hiding his face in his hands as their grandparents chuckled.

“It’s not bad!” Anita exclaimed defensively. “It’s actually a great idea. Anyway it was sort of Gramps’ idea originally.”

“Hey, don’t blame me!” Gramps put up his hands in mock surrender as the family stared at him.

“Spit it out,” Mom demanded, staring at Anita.

She took a deep breath. “Let’s save the forest on Brokeville Hill with our own Forest Landscapes Forever project! I can get Jill and Meridy and Sandie to help. We can transport seedling trees up the trails to all those damaged areas and Matt and Sean can plant them and…”

“Just me and Sean?” Matt was aghast. “Where’s everyone else?”

“And Dad and Gramps and Pete Poole,” Anita added hastily, glancing around the table. “And I can ask friends at Blue Meadows and school and…”

The silence was deafening.

“Penny, Sugar, Daisy and Fanny can carry the seedlings,” Anita glanced imploringly at Gramps. “Like Chiquito and Cenizo. They took books. We’ll take trees. If we use ponies not trucks, we’ll restore the forest the green way.”

The silence was still deafening until Gramps clapped his hands. “You’re on, Anita. Let’s do it!”
“We’re going to save a mountain in a weekend?” Dad groaned.

“Piece of cake!” roared Gramps. “Now all we need are the trees. I’ll talk to forestry. Joe, can you…”
In the time it took to devour the toffee pudding, Anita’s great idea was on its way to becoming a reality.

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To be continued…
Watch for part two, which will be posted in July 09, from the May/June 2009 issue of Canadian Horse Journal.

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