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Montana's Mission: Protecting the Forest

By Victor Hess

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Chapter 1

Sunday, May 11, 1958, 2 a.m. – Glen Helen Nature Preserve, Yellow Springs, Ohio

Vince and Max Arledge tramped their way down Stepping Stone Trail to Talus Trail in Glen Helen. It was just one of the many footpaths meandering fifteen miles over streams, around boulders, beside springs, up and back down steep slopes. The trails wove through a thousand acres of nature, untouched except for the paths and footbridges strategically placed to give the visitors a close awareness of God’s creation. But now, it was 2 a.m. and the two intruders were not looking for a photo. Their flashlights sent beams of light through the forest, illuminating the eyes of an occasional animal until they arrived at a pair of trees at the turn of the trail.
“This is it,” said Vince. “Give me those climbers.”
Vince was the elder and smarter of the two brothers and clearly in charge. He looked older with his beard, but he was much shorter, by a full foot, than his younger brother.
Max handed him a pair of old rusted spikes lumber jacks used to climb trees or linemen used to climb telephone poles. He held the flashlight as Vince sat on a log and strapped the antique devices to each leg.
When Vince stood up and marched toward the tree, the spikes sounded like cowboy spurs with every step he took.
“Give me that net,” he said. Max draped the fishing net across Vince’s back. Max was tall and lanky. His face was narrow, and his eyes set deep in his skull, giving him a creepiness noticed by most people who met him.
“Now, the rope.” Max gave him the 50’ coil of sisal rope they had purchased earlier that day at the hardware store.
As he draped the rope on Vince’s shoulder, Max felt something move near his leg and side stepped in such a way that he lost his balance, falling backwards into Yellow Springs Creek, totally soaking his pants. The splash caused a commotion among some of the birds and nighttime animals.
“Shh,” said Vince, irritated. “What are you doing?”
“Something touched me. Does this place have snakes?” Max reached for the limb of a small tree and pulled himself upright.
“This place has everything.” There was a loud smack in the water and Max leaped out of the creek, his hand grabbing at the coil of rope draped over Vince’s shoulder nearly pulling him over.
“Stop it,” whispered Vince.
“Seriously, what was that?” Max asked.
“Probably an otter or something. They live here, you idiot.” They stood there for a moment looking around, making sure they were still alone. The rushing sound of a nearby spring, the whistling of a screech owl, and the soft breeze, soothed their anxiety.
“Are you okay?” Vince finally asked.
“My shoes are soaked. My pants are wet and falling off.”
“Well, I’m ready. You’ll just have to tighten your belt,” said Vince, who had taken on the silhouette of a mountain climber against the bright half-moon.
“Are you sure this is the right tree? It isn’t very big around,” he said while hitching up his pants.
“The nest is in that tree.” He pointed to a large oak just next to the pine. “It’s too wide to climb with just these climbers. But this pine goes all the way up right next to the nest in the oak tree.” Max looked straight up the tall pine and nearly fell backward the more he stared.
“What if they ain’t there? Don’t they feed at night?” Max said while he adjusted his neck.
“It’s May. There should be an egg or two up there. If there is, the mother or father will be sitting on it.” Vince started climbing up the tall pine. The spike from the climber didn’t catch on the first try and his right foot skidded down the trunk.
“Ouch!” yelled Vince.
“Shh.” Max pulled on Vince’s arm.
“What?”
“I saw something. Over there.” Max pointed toward the light of the moon. “It’s a bear.”
“There ain’t no bears here. Let go. I’ve got this.” Vince grasped the trunk, and this time firmly planted his climber spike in the soft pine wood. He slowly straightened his leg and rose a foot above Max. He repeated it with the other leg, raising himself another foot, and again until he was well above Max. Max backed away from the tree and watched his older brother disappear into the pine limbs until he could no longer hear the clank of the climbers.
Suddenly Max heard a ruckus up in the pine tree, just where it met the eagle’s nest. The moonlight illuminated tiny feathers floating, pine limbs falling, and then there were screeches from the eagles, and finally the scream from Vince.
Max stepped back another step and stared back up into the pine limbs, heart racing but unable to see anything. He heard a continuous cracking of the wood and finally watched pine limbs slowly fall toward him and then Vince’s frantic face appeared closer and closer until it all fell directly on Max forcing him back into the creek under the fallen pine tree. Now Vince lay on the top side of the tree, his mouth full of feathers, the net torn to shreds.
“Did you get the eagle?” Max said.
“I had him. How come the tree fell?” Vince yelled. “What did you do?”
There was a scurrying along the creek and a screech from the oak, which was still standing, but the entire pine tree was laying across the creek.
Whoosh. The eagle appeared and swooped down directly toward the brothers. Vince raised his arm to protect his face but then the eagle glided by and plucked a squirrel from the fallen pine tree and with just a few strokes of his wing ascended back to his nest. The squirrel barked a protest and then became silent.
Vince and Max crawled from the limbs of the pine tree. Vince, rope still wrapped around his shoulder, limped around the tree.
“Didn’t you see this?” he yelled at Max.
“What?”
“This.” He pointed at the base of the pine, chipped away neatly like it was a yellow pencil sharpened with a pen knife. A loud slap on the water made them both jump.
“Beaver!” Vince said. “How did I miss this?” There was another loud slap on the water.
“Hey! What’s going on down there. Who’s there?” a voice came from the top of the 100 limestone steps leading down to the Glen.
“The Baron is not going to be happy,” said Max.
“Stop right there!” the man yelled.
“Let’s get out of here. Follow me,” said Vince, and he led Max up the Stepping Stone Trail toward where they parked the car on the far side of the Glen. A beam of light swept the forest below the Trailside Museum, quiet again except for the fading sound of two men running and tripping up the trail.

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