The Falling Giants

Here of the woodland, struggling against extreme odds, traveling dangerous trails, fighting the many enemies of nature.

This is the job of the Guardian of the Forest, Ranger Bill, pouring rain, freezing cold, blistering heat, snow, floods, bears, rattlesnakes, mountain lions. Yes, all this in exchange for the satisfaction and pride of a job well done.

I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed against the earth's sweet flowing breast. A tree that looks at God all day and lifts her leafy arms to pray.

A tree that may in summer wear a nest of robins in her hair. Upon whose bosom snow is laid, who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree.

Hi there, boys and girls. Didn't expect me to start off with a poem today, did you? Well, when the poet Joyce Kilmer wrote only God can make a tree, he made a profound statement. A tree is a wonderful creation made by the Lord's hand, and we use trees for a great many purposes. Trees are one of our most valuable assets, and much is done by us to preserve them

until the time that they are ready to be cut down. Then we leave seeding trees to start the forest anew. We have tree farms where we grow thousands upon thousands of trees to reforest areas that have been cut for timber and the byproducts of wood.

Believe me, out our way, you see plenty of action if and when we find our trees in danger. Well, our story today can have no better title than the Bawling Giants. Boy, oh boy, Dad, it sure is nice of you to bring me up here to see the giant pines.