My Home Still Stands: A Case for Compassion (Pt. 6)

The first wildlife we encountered--a wounded buck.

The next awakening arrow of pain shot through my heart when we came upon a wounded buck at one of the burned out home sites. While most of my neighborhood was intact, the neighborhood across the highway from ours wasn't as fortunate. In fact, it was one of the hardest hit.

Slowly rolling through the streets in the low riding sedan of my friend and photographer, Nathan DeHart,  was necessary not only to dodge downed trees, lines, poles and debris, but also because Nathan was  discovering how best to capture the story in pictures. For me, the plodding pace encouraged the extent of the damage to just as slowly sneak into my bones.

{It's June 10, 2017 now as I complete this entry. I've just returned from a concert by pianist Karen Rhoads in the portion of Boggs Forest that rests behind the Cobb Mountain Elementary School. Firestorm, a sonata in three movements, as its name implies, is Karen's response to the Valley Fire.

Karen is the same pianist that performed in Boggs Forest only months before the Valley Fire--it was her first public performance in many years and it was set in the tall conifers near the visitor's center. That morning was perfect as Jim and I took our seats in the folding chairs arranged on the forest floor by the sponsors for for the event, Friends of Boggs Mountain.

Not two seconds after Karen's hands struck the ivory keys of the grand piano the whop whop whopping sounds of a helicopter filled the sound space.

Boggs forest is a demonstration forest and shares its space with a CalFire station. Incredulous disappointment swept over me--really? CalFire couldn't see the need for their silence at this moment?

For the majority of Karen's concert, as she professionally persisted in poise, she and the audience endured the ongoing and overwhelming sounds along with the swaying and swooshing of the forest canopy from the dramatic helicopter winds as it practiced taking off and landing not a hundred yards from us.

But on this unseasonably brisk June morning in 2017, as the diminutive upright piano stood stately on the small outdoor amphitheater stage, an occasional sound of helicopters far off in the distance were heard.

Photographer Nathan DeHart, Blue Wing Saloon, Upper Lake

Pianist Karen Rhoades in concert at Boggs Forest, June (?) 2015.

In its place, though, to continue to test Karen's persistence and resilience, a frigid breeze whipped through the pine needles, casting a swayful scene across the crisp blue sky. The audience huddled on the low set wooden benches with crazy wisps of condensed moisture spiraling off their cups of tea or coffee.

The musical piece was powerful and emotionally moving. At once, from the first pulsing, dramatic thrust of the keys, sounds of stifled cries and sobs from the audience peppered the melodious notes.

From a tiny chipmunk darting in and out of his small pile of cut wood home at the base of a tree, to a meandering jack rabbit hopping across the forest floor--hidden and revealed by complicit sword ferns, to the view of the newly constructed home high on the burnt ridge behind the stage, the brief sonata performance gave rise to various complex thoughts of the resiliency of nature and humans. Between those and the striking sounds of Karen's piece, a heightened sense of wonder filled my experience.}


Parking upon seeing the buck, Nathan and I pondered the situation. Finally a slight nod and look on his face caused tears to well up. I choked them back as I realized there was nothing we could do to help this suffering creature. 

This was the first it dawned on me the impact on the animal life. Oh, goodness. My heart sank at the thought of this wounded buck, powerless to move, nestled beneath a hot tub, now sitting prey.

Not only that, how many tens of thousands of animals were unable to escape this raucous blaze and painfully perished in the fire?

...how many tens of thousands of animals were unable to escape the raucous blaze and painfully perished in the fire?