Bent, let's suppose I'm the President of the United States, and I
have just appointed you to the office of Chief Forester of the National
Forests. You have full power. The object is to conserve our national
resources. What will you do?"
"Wal, Mr. President," he began, slowly and seriously, and with great
dignity, "the Government must own the forests an' deal wisely with them.
These mountain forests are great sponges to hold the water, an' we must
stop fire an' reckless cuttin'. The first thing is to overcome the
opposition of the stockmen, an' show them where the benefit will be theirs
in the long run. Next the timber must be used, but not all used up. We'll
need rangers who're used to rustlin' in the West an' know Western ways.
Cabins must be built, trails made, roads cut. We'll need a head forester
for every forest. This man must know all that's on his preserve, an' have
it mapped. He must teach his rangers what he knows about trees. Penetier
will be given over entirely to the growin' of yellow pine. Thet thrives
best, an' the parasites must go. All dead an' old timber must be cut, an'
much of thet where the trees are crowded. The north slopes must be cut
enough to let in the sun an' light. Brush, windfalls rottin' logs must be
burned. Thickets of young pine must be thinned.
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